The Winds of Change
by Christina Hilt
Summary: In her sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger asks for Professor Snape’s approval to carry out a joint Potions and History of Magic project. This is the story of the events that follow.
1. The Project

**The Winds of Change**

by

**Christina Hilt**

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**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

_**Disclaimer**_

_Most of the characters in this story were created by J.K.Rowling, not by myself, with the following exceptions: Malcolm Baddock, Hermione's Parents, and Natalie McDonald appeared as names only in the original Harry Potter stories. I have given them characters. Alistair Baddock is entirely invented by myself._

_The locations in the book were created by J.K.Rowling, with the following exceptions: The underground caverns and tunnels; Snape's personal quarters; Snape's home "Haven", including its grounds; The pubs – "The Star and Spell" and "The Happy Kneazle"_

_The situations and storyline in this book are my own creation._

_**Author's Notes**_

_This story was originally published, chapter by chapter, between December 2001 and April 2002. When Fanfiction changed their policy about ratings on their site, I removed the story, due to its sexual content. However, it has been difficult to find somewhere as suitable as this to post it, and, after a careful review of Fanfiction's current policies, I've decided to re-post it here._

_This is the story that started me writing, and although I've not written much for a couple of years, due to illness, I intend to continue. When originally posted, it received over 1400 reviews (9 of them were negative) - an amazing response for which I will be eternally grateful._

_Tempting though it is, to want to go back and edit, I have not changed anything. Here is the story as it was first posted. Please enjoy!_

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**Chapter 1 – The Project**

Now or never, thought Hermione to herself, steeling herself ready to face the uncomfortable conversation she was about to start.

"Professor?" It was the third time this week that Hermione had tried to approach her Potions Master about this, but had, at the last minute, changed her mind on the previous occasions. Now she had his attention and there was no turning back. He turned to her, stiffly, which she took to be an invitation to continue, despite his impassive expression. "I wanted to ask your advice about my final project, please."

"Indeed?" It seemed that this would be all the response she would get from him, so she continued.

"In History of Magic, I've been studying early developments in Potion Making, and I'd like to do a combined project for the two subjects. Professor Binns has already agreed to it, as long as you approve."

Hermione began to squirm under Snape's penetrating gaze. "And what would this project entail?" he demanded after a long and unnerving silence.

She gulped. "Well, there's very little documented on the development of early healing potions, even for what are considered today's basics. But I've found documents on the work of Rupert the Blood-letter, and Angus Snell Twinklehoff, who seem to have been the first wizards to experiment in this field. I would like to do a research project to prove or disprove whether their work could have led to the first real and working applications of these potions."

Again silence. For a long moment, Snape's expression did not change, then, just for a moment, Hermione thought she could see a hint of approval in his eyes. Then it was gone. He turned away, impatiently, back to his desk.

"Your idea may have some possibilities, Ms. Granger, if you can commit to the great amount of effort it would undoubtedly involve. And", he added, "if you can convince me of your competence to work on the practical aspect of the project." He turned back to her, his expression detached and aloof. "I plan to begin reviewing my stores tomorrow evening. Everything must be checked and recorded. If you wish to obtain my approval for this project, you may demonstrate your knowledge of magical ingredients by assisting me in my work. You will also explain in more detail the approach that you will, if permitted, take to developing the potions."

Hermione's heart leapt. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape snorted. "Realize, before you thank me, Ms. Granger, that I am a long way from giving my approval. I will not commit my valuable time to this project unless I am fully satisfied of your ability to complete it effectively." He turned away from her, and began walking briskly to his office. "If you wish to proceed on these terms, report here at 7pm tomorrow, to assist in my stores." And he was gone.

Well, that didn't go too badly, thought Hermione, relieved. In a sense, his offer to test her knowledge of ingredients by working in the stores was a veiled compliment. Very veiled, she thought. Some of the things he had in there were extremely hazardous. He must have some level of confidence in her abilities, otherwise she couldn't have got that far. With this in mind, she hurried to her next class, wondering, as she went, how much time she would be able to spend in the library between now and the next evening. She had some research to do - Snape would not be easy to impress.

"You agreed to what?" asked Ron, incredulously. "You're going down there tomorrow, to actually help him?"

Hermione sighed - this was exactly the reaction she'd expected. "It's not to help him. It's to convince him to let me do my project."

"Oh, well that explains it. You're going down there in the hope of convincing him to allow you to do a particularly tough project that's going to involve tons more work! Say no more!"

"The early development of Potions interests me, Ron."

Ron simply couldn't understand Hermione, sometimes. Correction. Ron couldn't understand Hermione most of the time, but now was particularly confusing. "Look, if we were allowed to choose our final projects based on our interests, I'd be studying the Chudley Cannons!"

Sometimes, Hermione found her friend's attitude to her studies exasperating, but today she just laughed. "I'll be in the library," she called, stepping towards the portrait hole.

"Really? I'm shocked!" Shaking his head, Ron stared after her, then headed towards Neville. "You'll never guess what Hermione's doing ."

The thought of being alone in the dungeons with Snape had not seemed so bad at first. Speaking to him after class had been in the cold light of day, in a room only just being deserted by her friends, and when Hermione was on her way to another lesson. Heading down to the dungeon alone, with the darkness drawing in outside, and the prospect of a long time alone with him, made her agreement with the Potions Master seem a different thing altogether.

She had been inside his office once, but only for a moment, with the rest of the class in turmoil outside the door. She had barely had a moment to look round, but she remembered it to be a dark and forbidding place. Apprehension grew as she tried to picture being there with Snape. She suppressed a shudder, then mentally shook herself. Get a grip, Hermione, she thought, forcing herself to knock lightly on the door to the classroom, then, softly push it open.

"Ms. Granger," Snape's voice was almost a snarl as he greeted her. Not a good sign.

"Good evening, Professor." Well, she would be civil, even if he found it too difficult.

Snape looked up from the book that he was writing in on his desk. "I did not expect you to show up, so I made a start without you."

She ignored his comment. "Where would you like me to start, Sir?" she asked, determined not to be dragged down to his level and give him reason to criticize her.

For a moment, he said nothing, as though considering, then stood. "Very well. I've started with the potions in the general stores in here. There's nothing too dangerous here - I couldn't leave anything important around for the likes of Neville Longbottom to drop." He pointed towards the open cabinet, displaying rows of neatly labeled bottles, placed on shelves by students, in a haphazard way that she knew infuriated him. "We shall check all of these before continuing with the more . potent . ingredients in my office."

And they were down to business. Hermione reviewed the contents of the bottles, packets and jars, checking stoppers were in place, labels were legible and correct, and re-organizing them into logical order. Snape recorded the items and quantities in the book, as she read them out to him. For each ingredient, he would quiz her on its properties, uses and hazards as they worked. Her answers were almost flawless, and he found little to fault, despite the fact that the questions became more difficult as he realized the extent of her knowledge. In classes she always answered, when he allowed her, always achieved the required results and good grades, despite being judged more harshly than most, but she had never been given the chance to shine. He seemed surprised as she answered a particularly difficult question about the properties of SilverBeetle wings, and Hermione realized suddenly that she was enjoying this opportunity. It was her chance to demonstrate her true knowledge to him, and the increasing difficulty of his questioning gratified her. She smiled to herself.

"Ms. Granger," Snape's voice caught her unawares, "is something amusing you?"

Should she tell him the truth about why she was smiling? No, that would bring up the issue of his dismissiveness to her in class, and she did not want to provoke an argument at this point. "Nothing, Sir. Sorry."

"Very well. It is getting late and you have been most helpful. You clearly have an even more thorough knowledge of Potions than I was aware of." Compliments? He continued. "We have not had the opportunity to discuss your plans for your project, but if you would be willing to continue to assist me until the work in my stores is complete . ?"

Hermione risked a smile at him. Unexpectedly, it was genuine. "I'd be happy to. Thank you, Professor."

"Dismissed." His closing word was little more than a grunt from where he appeared deeply engrossed in the book on his desk. This surprised her after what had been an almost civil conversation. She shrugged. Maybe that was the reason - a few too many not-unkind words and he became uncomfortable. The guard had to go back up. She wondered about this, but she wondered more about her own curiosity. Was she really trying to understand this man?

The next evening followed a similar pattern, at first. They were working on the stores held in Snape's office, now, which were far more hazardous and potent than those available in the classroom. Her knowledge of these was less thorough, but the Potions Master seemed willing to use the time to teach as well as test. She learned more in those few hours than she could have done in a week in the library. Her previous nervousness at the thought of working with him in his office barely came to her mind as she found herself deep in conversation on a subject that fascinated her.

She outlined her plans for the experimental potions she wanted to brew for her project, and the results she expected to obtain, and was rewarded with useful suggestions on how to improve her ideas. He hadn't said so directly, but surely this meant that he would approve her project?

At times she began to forget the habitual severity of her teacher, in the light of the relatively easy communication that now seemed possible between them. It came back to her with a jolt, though, as she fumbled a bottle and dropped it. Snape leapt to his feet as it hit the floor and shattered, spilling the black liquid onto the stone, and splashing onto Hermione's feet. Instantly she yelped in pain. Looking at the damage done to her shoe it was easy to see why the pain was so bad, assuming it was doing the same thing to her skin as to the leather. She staggered backwards, unable to think about anything but the burning on her skin.

"Stand still, girl!" ordered Snape, sharply. It was not a voice to be disobeyed, and gave her something to focus on. She watched as his wand was raised, and pointed towards her feet. In her confusion, the words he used did not register, but almost immediately the pain subsided. Her head span. She looked up at him gratefully.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"How could you be so clumsy, you stupid girl," he snarled. "These potions are kept in here for good reasons. You should have more respect for them." The usual coldness was back in his voice, and she had a sudden and terrifying impression of what Neville went through every time he dropped something in a Potions lesson, which was often.

"I'll clean it up," she said helplessly.

"No!" he growled. "You've done enough damage. The freezing spell I placed on your feet is only temporary. Madam Pomfrey has the correct treatment. Report to the Infirmary immediately, or it will wear off."

Hermione managed to hold back the tears as she fled through the classroom, but released them as she flew up the stairs to the main castle. How could she have messed things up so badly? Snape's recognition of her had never been particularly important, in comparison to the other teachers. She felt no need to earn the respect of a man she had always disliked so intensely, but now - to feel that she had begun to gain that respect and then lost it - it tore at her pride. Worst of all - there was no chance, now, that he would allow her to work on the project that she so desperately wanted to carry out. She had ruined everything with one clumsy mistake!

She felt the pain coming back to her feet as she hurried towards the Infirmary, but it no longer seemed to matter, compared to her wounded pride and her worry about how she would be able to face Snape the next time they had to meet.

Hermione was afforded some partial relief in the knowledge that they were unlikely to meet until Monday's Potions lesson, but this was not to be. The incident with the bottle had happened on Wednesday, and she had only one Snape-free day before running into him, almost literally, on Friday afternoon. It happened as her route from Arithmancy to History of Magic took her past the staffroom, just as Snape was stepping out. Looking into her bag for her books as she hurried, she almost collided with him.

"Ms. Granger," his voice stopped her in her tracks. Not now! she thought. A shiver ran down her back. "I trust that Madam Pomfrey was able to counteract the effect of the other evening's clumsiness?"

"Yes, Professor Snape. I'm fine now, thank you," Hermione wasn't quite sure if he'd intended it as a question after her health or simply as a jibe to remind her of her mistake.

"Then I expect you at 7pm to complete the work that we had to cut short. With a great deal more care this time, I might add."

"Sir?" Hermione had not expected this.

"I had intended to complete it yesterday, but as you failed to attend and I was not aware of which items had been checked and which had not, I was forced to postpone the operation."

She was stunned. Surely he didn't want her to continue after what happened? "I didn't think you'd want my help again after my mistake, Sir," she said, genuinely surprised.

His response was quick and irritable in tone. "Do not assume that an error, negligent and intolerable as it was, gives you the right to renege on your commitment."

"No, Professor Snape. Of course. I'll be there at 7pm."

Hermione's next surprise came only a few minutes later when, explaining to Professor Binns that her lateness was due to speaking to Professor Snape, he smiled at her and commented, "Ah, good. Your project, presumably, Miss. Granger? I was so pleased when he told me yesterday that he would be willing to approve the joint project. I'm expecting wonderful things from this!"


	2. Passion and Pain

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

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**Chapter 2 – Passion and Pain**

Seven o'clock arrived and found Hermione and Snape once again working quietly in the dungeon. She had been apprehensive, at first, but it seemed that her earlier mistake had been forgotten, and he did not mention it again. When thanked for his approval of her project, he shrugged it off. "I would not have done so if I did not feel you were capable of it, Ms. Granger." Strangely, her thanks seemed to make him awkward. Was he so unaccustomed to friendly words that they embarrassed him? She found this a sad thought. He must be lonely if such words made him ill at ease.

They had soon settled into the comfortable routine established on the other evenings, and the work was productive. They were getting through his stores quickly and efficiently, and Hermione was surprised at how well they managed to communicate with so few words. The only ingredients left to review where those kept on the top shelf of the cupboard. Hermione reached up towards them, but was a little too short - the cupboard was for the use of Snape, after all, who was several inches taller. The student stepped aside as the teacher approached to assist her. He reached up, but then paused, his arm outstretched, then without any forewarning, he suddenly turned, reached out to her and pulled her into his arms.

Her mind whirled. What was going on? This was totally unexpected and she could barely believe that it was happening.

His mouth closed fiercely upon hers. In amazement, she tried to push him away, but he was too strong. His kiss lasted only a few moments before he pulled back and held her at arms length. She was too stunned to do anything, but from the expression on his face as he stared, no more stunned than he. His words confirmed it.

"My God! I had no idea I was going to do that," he whispered, and there was something so sincere in his voice that she didn't doubt his words. He stared, startled, into her face for several seconds. But the shock in his eyes melted into want as their eyes locked, and he drew her to him again. Again, she struggled against him, but there was something about his lips that began to stir up unknown feelings in her, and her struggles gradually died as she felt herself returning his kiss.

She'd been kissed before, but this was something different - passionate - demanding. This was no teenage schoolboy - this was a man more than double her age, and with experience of the world, of which she knew so little. Experience with women. He knew what he wanted and knew how to simply reach out and take it. This was made all the more apparent as his hand reached up first to cup her face, then slide down gently to unfasten her robe. She felt a sudden panic rise in her. Kissing him had excited her and had begun to make her body respond in ways she didn't understand, but this was a little too fast. She pulled back.

"No," she whispered, her heart pounding. He pulled her back against him.

"Yes," he murmured, his lips against hers. He was holding her firmly, and continued fumbling with her robe as she began to push away more forcefully. He gripped her tighter, then almost stumbled into the potions cabinet as he dodged her knee.

"Damn!" he said aloud. Then, with a quick flick of his wand, which he drew from his robes, she found herself unable to move her arms. She tried to scream out, but something - either magic or fear - was stopping her. With a swift movement, he lifted her, and paused, looking around - clearly, this situation had not been planned, or he would not have had to think about this - then he began carrying her towards his desk. "Don't struggle, you silly girl, or I'll drop you!"

A sweep of his arm sent papers, including the potions book they had been working on so diligently, scattered across the room, and sent vials smashing onto the floor. He displayed similar disregard for her shirt, as she heard it rip under his rough touch. A few moments, and his hands were exploring her naked body - pinned against the edge of the hard desk. His clothes joined hers on the floor as he shrugged off his own robes and the loose black shirt he wore under them, revealing a surprisingly powerful chest. His skin was warm and smelled, not unpleasantly, of sweat, as their bare skin pressed together. She flinched and tried to turn away as his mouth reached for hers. It seemed to make him pause for a moment, before nuzzling his face into her hair.

"Hermione," he whispered breathlessly into her ear. "I didn't plan on doing this. I had no idea how strongly I felt about you until tonight. I didn't even know I was going to kiss you until I'd done it." He planted gentle kisses around her ear, almost lovingly, as he spoke. "I don't want to hurt you, but I have to have you."

Oh God!

Maybe he though that freeing her arms would demonstrate that he meant what he said about not hurting her, but in her fear, she took the opportunity to scratch at his face. Her fingernails drew blood and he swore. She found her arms pinned again, this time above her head as she was forced onto the desk. With her legs pinned, too, she could barely move. He leaned over her and ran his hands down her body from her shoulders to her thighs.

"You began to like it when we kissed. If you relax, and let me take care of you, I think you'll like it more when we make love." she closed her eyes at his words, and tried to force her breathing to slow.

"This isn't making love, Snape," she whispered, her shaking voice beginning to crack. "This is rape!"

A moment later, she gasped. Without warning, a warm wetness slid between her legs in a touch far more intimate than anything she had experienced before. With a shock, she realized that his tongue was probing her body, and finding parts of her that she had never been fully aware of. With more of a shock, she realized the effect it was having on her body. She was moving beneath his touch, but was she trying to get away or pushing towards him?

His hands reached up to cup her breasts as his tongue worked. He was patient with her - not letting the sensations become too intense too quickly - relaxing her body, then intensifying her reaction once again. She didn't understand her body's intense response, physically or emotionally. Something told her that her instinct to fight him had been right - that what he was doing was wrong - but more and more, her body was telling her that this was so, so right.

The tension was building in her whole body - like she was about to explode. He drew his hands down from her breasts, and slid them under her buttocks, lifting her to him. Then he lifted his head.

"I'll stop now, if you want me to."

Bastard!

How could he do this?

"No!" she had no idea what was happening to her, or what was coming next, but she couldn't let him stop now. "Don't stop!"

"Tell me what you want," he demanded.

"Your tongue. Please!" she begged. His tongue flicked at her, sending a tremor through her body.

"There?" he asked.

"Yes. I want you!" she moaned as his tongue reached for her again.

"Call me Severus," he murmured. A part of her mind was jolted at this reminder of who this man was. Severus Snape. Potions Master. Her teacher. But this was totally irrelevant now.

"Severus!" she whispered, then found herself repeating it more loudly and breathlessly at the touch of his tongue. He brought her, moaning his name, to an incredible and frighteningly intense climax, which left her shaking and weak.

Before she had chance to think about anything, or to recover, though, a new sensation took over, as she felt the weight of his body on top of hers. Still trying to get her breath, she cried out in pain as he forced his way inside her. His hands reached up to grip hers, bound as they were, as his fierce thrusting movements forced all other thoughts out of her mind.

"Severus!" she cried.

"Hermione!" It felt like he was trying to push his way through her - faster and deeper, faster and deeper - until with a long moan and one final penetrating and painful thrust, his body slumped, trembling on hers.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks as he nuzzled his face in her hair, whispering her name. He lay, recovering his breath for a few moments, then turned his head to kiss her neck and cheek. He stopped, suddenly, tasting her tears, and drew back to look at her face. His expression crumpled as he stared at her.

"Oh, my God! What have I done?"


	3. Each Alone

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

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**Chapter 3 – Each Alone**

Hermione was gone and Snape was alone in his office. His clothes were still on the floor, except for his robe, which he had pulled around himself - knowing that the cold he was feeling was nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

He had raped a student. Oh, God! When the spell binding her to his desk had been lifted, he had helplessly watched, as she struggled into her clothes and ran from him. Emotions in turmoil, he had watched her leave his office, heard the door on the other side of the classroom flung wide, and her running footsteps up the stairs. He had stared, unbelievingly, after her, then stood and slammed the office door closed with a force that shook the dungeon.

Being unsure of himself was something Snape was not accustomed to dealing with. How could she have thrown him so much off balance? Anger, hatred, fear, disgust - he'd dealt with them all before, but not like this. Always, before, he'd had a focus for his emotions - he knew who he hated, what he feared - but not right now. Without any control or rationality, he flipped between conflicting feelings - anger at his own lack of control, hatred of Hermione for what she'd led him to, disgust at himself for even thinking of blaming her, fear of the outside world once Dumbledore threw him out, longing to hold that beautiful body in his arms again - jangling images and feelings, overwhelming him.

Where was the girl now? Who would she go to? The possibilities flashed in front of him. Dumbledore - unlikely - it would probably be to a woman. Pomfrey, maybe. No - McGonagall was head of Gryffindor, and Hermione would likely go straight to her. By this time tomorrow, he would be out of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had forgiven Snape for far more than he had any right to expect, but not this time. And why should he? He didn't deserve forgiveness for this. The poor, frightened, innocent girl. Maybe he should start packing his things now. Or better still - go to Dumbledore before McGonagall did. Not that it would make any difference to his being thrown out. Leaving Hogwarts would likely be death for him. With Snape's past, he knew full well that without the protection of the school he would have been killed before now. The thought almost brought him comfort. If nothing else, it would blot out the image in his mind of Hermione's tear-stained face.

That beautiful face. He couldn't even remember deciding to kiss her - he had just felt her nearness and reached out. And the moment when she'd stopped pushing him away and relaxed into his kiss - a warmth spread through him at the memory - it had been so long since he'd felt, if only for a moment, so warm and wanted. Then when he'd started to take it further and she'd resisted - he tried to tell himself that he'd lost control, but knew it wasn't true. He'd known exactly what he was doing. Old habits die hard, and when he'd seen what he wanted he'd just decided to take it. In the moment when he'd lifted her in his arms, all the possibilities and consequences that he was now facing had flashed through his mind and he'd made his decision at that moment - that it was worth it. And he'd been right. In those few moments when she hadn't been fighting him - when she had responded to his touch, when she'd begged him not to stop, when she'd moaned his name in pleasure - it had been worth whatever the consequences would be.

If only he hadn't hurt her!

"I am so, so sorry, Hermione," he whispered into the emptiness of the office.

When Hermione found that the spell holder her had been broken, she grabbed her clothes and bolted, half expecting Snape to prevent her from leaving. Flinging the door to the office, then the classroom wide open, she ran. The slamming door behind her reverberated up the stone steps and seemed to speed her along on the edge of the shockwave. It was the second time this week that she'd run, crying, from the dungeon, but instead of the infirmary, her only thought was for her own room.

But the common-room would be full at this time of night, and going through it was the only way to her room. She needed somewhere to be alone and to think. The only place that immediately sprang to mind was one of the Prefects' bathrooms. The one she had in mind was less used than the others, being several floors up in one of the towers, so would likely be empty. Thankfully it was, and she carefully closed and locked the door behind her before leaning against a wall and sinking to the floor, hugging her knees bent up close to her.

She cried. Everything that had happened that evening had her hurt, confused and sore. Images burned in her mind of Snape's hands on her body, his face close to hers, his weight on top of her. Unable to deal with them, she simply let them wash over her as she cried.

She'd been raped. But had she? She had been given the opportunity to make him stop and she'd not only turned it down, but begged him to continue. He had given her the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced and she'd wanted it - and wanted him - without question. But then what he'd done to her afterwards! The pain he'd caused her as he pushed himself inside her, and the bruising on her back from his weight crushing her beneath him on the unyielding desk. She'd called out his name as the breath was forced out of her, wanting him to stop, and cried in pain as he took his own pleasure at her expense. There was a thought at the back of her mind, though, that maybe even then, if he'd asked, she wouldn't have stopped him. How could she know?

Her body had betrayed her. First with his kiss, making her melt as his lips took hers, then when his tongue was on her and she was moaning his name. It was wrong, and she knew it, but she had wanted him so much.

And, she realized, with a shock that brought further tears, she still did.


	4. Waiting for the Axe to Fall

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

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**Chapter 4 – Waiting for the Axe to Fall**

It was a long night for Snape. A night of reflection on his history - things long gone and things recent. His tormented mind raced with visions of past horrors, pains and dark emotions. Apart from his dealings with Dumbledore and the school, there was very little in his past that could cast enough light into his personal darkness to banish the demons that lurked there. The flicker of something brighter - which he had glimpsed only briefly a few hours ago, holding Hermione in his arms - was too overpowered with the darkness of his actions to stand any chance of shining.

All night, he sat alone in his office, not knowing when the knock on the door would come, that would signal the end of his time at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's face would not show anger, but disappointment in the man in whom he had put so much trust. When he arrived, Snape would be here, calm and accepting, ready to admit to all that Hermione had accused him of. He had no right to deny any of it - he had to show her that much respect. He sat, expectant, watching the door.

Waiting for the axe to fall.

He awoke gradually, stiff from where his head had fallen sideways against the wings of the chair. He had been sitting there since not long after Hermione left, and it was now - he glanced at the clock - a little after seven in the morning. He remembered still being awake at after four, so he couldn't have had much more than a couple of hours' sleep. It didn't matter. What he remembered of it was not relaxing, but a nightmare continuation of his waking thoughts and memories.

He shuddered and stood. He hadn't left the room since Hermione left, but now returned to his private rooms to shower. His eyes closed as the water splashed over his body. Why was he still here? If Hermione had gone straight to McGonagall after leaving his office last night, it would have been an hour or two, at most, before Dumbledore confronted him. Why had that not happened? Perhaps Hermione had needed some time to deal with her ordeal before having to re-live it by telling anyone else.

That must be it - she would be talking to McGonagall this morning, or maybe she already had. Dumbledore could be on his way.

He stepped out of the shower and dressed. If he was going to be leaving the school, he should make sure that things were in order before he left. He had, long ago, banned the House Elves from the dungeon, so the smashed vials and scattered papers from his desk (his stomach clenched at the memory) needed to be cleaned up. There were scrolls to be marked and ingredients to be obtained - from the list of deficiencies that he and Hermione had identified - to keep the stores sufficiently stocked. Again, he tensed at the thought of her, but forced it out of his mind as he focused on his new task. He realized with a jolt how much his teaching had come to mean to him. His pride couldn't allow him to leave his department in a mess - he would never have imagined that he could feel this way about it.

As he worked, one thought kept coming back to his mind over and over again. Why had Dumbledore not arrived to confront him?

Waiting for the axe to fall.

It was late in the morning, and Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, with her torn shirt in her hands. She had woken a few minutes earlier after a long and deep sleep. Her night had, at first, been plagued by dreams - half frightening, half exciting - filled with mixed up images from the evening, but her sleep had eventually slipped beyond the reach of dreams, giving her the rest she needed after her emotionally draining night.

Her body was stiff as she moved, and she thought with mixed emotions of the reasons why. She had reached for the shirt - a very physical reminder of Snape's strength and passion - and simply sat, staring at it for several minutes.

Outside, the rain beat on the window, the stormy weather seeming strangely appropriate to go with the turbulent emotions running wild at the moment. Hermione stood to gaze outside. The view from the Gryffindor tower covered a lot of landscape, both inside and outside the castle grounds, and towards the hills in the distance. She gazed, unseeing, through the rain, until something moving in the grounds caught her attention. The only person she could think of who would be out there in this would be Hagrid, and she absently followed the figure's path. But it was too small to be Hagrid. Black robes were crouched at the herb gardens behind the greenhouses, and it was only when they straightened that she recognized the form of Snape.

Her heart pounded. How was she ever going to face him again? The memory of what he'd done to her, and her realization that she wanted him to do it again, was constantly in her mind. How could she now face him in their next lesson? What would either of them say? Maybe she could make herself ill on Monday. Put off the encounter for another week. Maybe she should attend the lesson like nothing had happened. But if she did that, would she be able to keep the longing out of her eyes? When she was in his presence, would she simply go to pieces?

Unable to take her eyes off the figure in the rain, she stood, clutching the ripped fabric of her shirt, as the tears rolled once more.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice accompanied the knock on her door, a little while later. "Are you awake?" She quickly turned from the window and wiped her face.

Coughing, to check her voice before she spoke, she called, "I'm just getting dressed. I'll be down there in ten minutes!"

"Okay." Hermione, shaking herself to pull herself together, quickly hid the shirt in a drawer and headed for a fast shower. The cool, fresh water felt good on her skin, and she dressed feeling a little better and hurried down the stairs to the common room. She really didn't want to do much, but spending some time with Ron and Harry would at least help to take her mind off things.

"What happened to you last night?" Hermione froze at Ron's question. What did he know? "You still weren't back when we went to bed." She relaxed. Ron accepted her explanation of going to the library without question. "Should have known!"

"We're going to go and see Hagrid before lunch," Harry informed her. "Ron got news about Norbert from his brother, so we're going to show Hagrid the letter. Coming?"

"Sure." After everything that happened last night, it felt good to be doing 'normal' things. Nothing could completely take her mind of Snape right now, but she had to try. Together, they headed out of the portrait-hole and towards the front door.

It was only as Hermione's mind wandered back to her window and the figure in the rain that she realized the possibility of their paths crossing. She didn't know if she could deal with that right now. All was clear as they approached the door, but as Harry lifted the heavy latch and opened it, they met Snape face to face.

The world stood still for a moment, even the rain, as Hermione took in his appearance. He was soaked through, carrying a basket overflowing with plants. She had never before considered his physical appearance to be attractive in any way, but now his mere presence had an effect on her. Her heart fluttered at the sight of his dark eyes, and at the thought of the lean body his robes concealed. Severus! Their eyes met for a moment, but she found it impossible to read anything in them. She looked away, not knowing what else to do.

Harry was standing immediately in front of him, and received Snape's usual snarl, as he seemed to recover himself. "Out of my way, Potter!" He pushed roughly past, and into the castle.

"That's unusual," muttered Harry. "I'd never have pictured Snape as a gardener!"

Ron snorted. "Did you see the mark he had on his face?" Hermione had noticed it. A prominent scratch across his right cheek where her nails had drawn his blood. She said nothing, and followed Harry and Ron in silence, fighting the urge to look back before she closed the castle door behind them.

Under normal circumstances, Professor Snape would never have dreamed of collecting potion ingredients himself, but today he made an exception. Professor Sprout might object to anyone else harvesting her precious crops, but that was simply too bad. He wanted to make sure his stores were complete before he had to leave them, and the rain might do him some good.

He took his time in the garden, consulting his list to make sure he got everything, and stopping occasionally to put his head back and allow the cool drops to splash into his face and run down his neck. There were only a few items that he couldn't find in the garden, and would need to ask Professor Sprout to replenish for him from the greenhouses, as usual.

Mentally, he planned the treatments needed for each item for his stores, as he headed back to the castle. Most simply required drying and crushing, but others needed special preparation. He hoped he would have the time. He reached the door, but before he could reach for the handle, it swung open.

Hermione! Her face looked pale as she stared back at him, then she turned away. Who could blame her, after what he'd done? It wrenched his heart to see her face, so disgusted that she couldn't bear to look at him. He resorted to his only mechanism of defense.

"Out of my way, Potter!" He pushed roughly past, and into the castle, fighting the urge to turn to watch the girl.

He didn't get much further before he was stopped again.

"Severus." He turned at the sound of Minerva's voice. This was it. It was all about to start - the accusations, the disgust. "It's about Hermione Granger." He braced himself. "I know that we don't always see eye to eye, but I was so pleased when I heard that you'd approved the project she's working on. It means so much to her."

He was shocked by the sudden realization that Hermione had not told McGonagall about last night. Recovering just enough to avoid suspicion, he managed to respond in the way she would expect. "I'll be expecting you to see to it that she doesn't let me down or waste my time, Minerva." He hurried off.

If Hermione had not told McGonagall, then whom had she told? And why had Dumbledore not been to throw him out of the school? Was it possible that Hermione had not told anyone? He could barely believe that, especially after her reaction to him at the door.

What was going on?

He tried to think of any reason why she would be keeping this to herself, but the only one he could think of was so painful it made him almost wish she would tell. Maybe the whole thing was so painful to her that she couldn't even face talking about it.

His work during the day had given him something to focus on, certain in the knowledge that he would soon be gone, and resigned to that fact. Now this gave him a whole new situation to consider. Maybe he would have to continue teaching here - teaching Hermione. To try to carry on as though nothing had happened was incomprehensible. How could he ever face her again?

Hermione was trembling as she once again stepped down into the dungeon. It was close to eight o'clock in the evening, and her whole day seemed to have been spent working up the courage to do this. Her reaction to him that morning, and her constant worries about the next Potions lesson had convinced her that she could not allow their next meeting to be in a lesson. It would be impossible to deal with that. Her only option was to confront him now.

The decision, once she had made it, had been a relief, but finding the nerve to carry it out took all the strength she had. The alternative was to go on torturing herself until Monday, and at this rate, she would be a nervous wreck by then. She braced herself and knocked softly on Snape's office door.

Sitting in silence, alone in his office, Snape startled at the sound. Dumbledore?

"Come in," he growled.

The door creaked open.


	5. The Kiss

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - The Kiss**

As Hermione stepped inside Snape's office, she realized that she had no idea what she was going to say. All the words she had gone over in her mind throughout the day seemed unsuitable and out of place. But then, what was said seemed to matter less than the fact that they were in the same room. She closed the door behind her without a word, and leaned back against it, not looking at him.

"Hermione!" Snape stood, but made no move to approach her. From the tone of his voice, it seemed that she was the last person he had expected to see. She hesitated. What should she call him? She'd been over and over this, but still wasn't sure.

"Professor Snape," she said, eventually. Formal. Distant. Keep the barriers up - for now. She didn't look to see his reaction, but she thought she detected the slightest of flinches.

The silence between them was tense and both were uneasy. Hermione tried to think of something - anything - to say to break it, but her mind was blank. Eventually, Snape spoke.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry about last night. What I did was - - - unforgivable." Still Hermione said nothing. Snape slumped into his chair, resting his head in his hands on the desk. "I've been expecting Dumbledore to come down here and tell me to pack my bags."

Hermione looked up at him for a moment, then back at the floor. "I haven't told anyone," she said softly.

"Because you couldn't stand to think about it?"

"No," replied Hermione quietly, in surprise. "I don't know why."

They lapsed into silence again. She could hear Snape's uneven breathing, and got the impression that he was using his elbows on the desk to steady himself and try to hide the fact that he was shaking slightly.

Hermione suddenly felt the need to ask a question that had been on her mind since the previous night. "Severus," she asked quietly. He caught his breath at the name. "Does it always - - - hurt?"

His face went white. God. She was so innocent. He must have hurt her so badly! He sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and swallowing slowly. "No. That was because it was the first time," he paused, "and because I was so rough."

For the first time, their eyes met and held. Those dark eyes, pleading with her to understand, mirrored the pain in his voice. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. What I must have put you through - - - " his voice trailed off.

She took a deep breath. He assumed that she hated him for what he'd done to her, and accepted that, knowing that she had every right to despise him. But something in his eyes - there was clearly pain in his soul that went far beyond what had happened last night. Knowing what he could do to her and how he could make her feel - knowing that she had had only a glimpse of the passion hidden behind the cold mask that he showed to the world - she had to let him know that what she was feeling wasn't the loathing that he seemed to feel for himself.

"I liked it, when you kissed me," she said simply. His sudden reaction startled her. He stood, knocking his chair backwards, and for a moment, she pressed nervously back against the door, where she still leaned, thinking he was coming towards her. That was what she wanted, but not in the same forceful and compelling way that had frightened her last night. She wasn't ready for that. But instead of approaching, he turned away, standing by a large high-backed armchair on the other side of the desk, and seeming to lean on it for support.

Softly, she asked, "Why did you kiss me?"

His back stiffened, and he turned to her, one hand still resting on the back of the armchair, as he gazed at her. For a moment, his eyes seemed cold, but the façade crumpled almost immediately and they softened. His words were slow and hesitant, as though he was having difficulty expressing himself. "I thought that you were beautiful and intelligent, and your company was calming and so peaceful. But I never even thought about kissing you until you were suddenly so close. I didn't plan it - or even think about what I was doing - I just reached out to you." He closed his eyes and once more turned away. Shoulders hunched and head hung, his breathing was deep as though trying to calm himself.

Hermione finally pushed herself away from the door and walked silently round the desk. "Severus?" She whispered his name, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. Silently, he turned to her, and as her hand reached up to touch his cheek, he pulled her gently into his arms.


	6. Controlling the Flames

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Controlling the Flames**

Snape saw Hermione flinch as he stood. Her words had caught him totally off- guard. - - - I liked it, when you kissed me - - -. How could that be true, when her reaction to his movement betrayed her terror of him? She was barely of age, and so innocent - inexperienced - that her confused emotions had her mixed up to the point of not knowing what she felt. Quickly, he turned away from her - concealing his own emotions and hiding from hers.

Again, she took him by surprise with a question. Why had he kissed her? He couldn't explain that one to himself, never mind to her. Most of his life had been spent in a world of deception and betrayal. His very life had depended on being in control - control of his thoughts, his emotions and his expressions. Now this young witch had him unable to master any of these. Damn it! What was she doing to him? He turned to her, knuckles white as he clutched the chair-back, the anger in his eyes very real. Anger was good - he needed to drive her away from him and get them both out of this dangerous situation. But he couldn't do it. Just another example of the effect she was having on him - his brief flash of anger melted at the sight of her.

Fumbling for words, he told her the truth, as it came to him, hoping that maybe she would be able to make more sense of it than he could. No - she would never be able to understand it. He turned away, terrified and ashamed of this uncertainty and weakness that was so unfamiliar to him.

The touch on his shoulder was gentle. To part of him, it was a shock that she would reach out to him like this. To another part, it seemed somehow - - - inevitable. His heart fluttered at his name on those sweet lips. He turned. A soft hand reached up to his face and, in answer to the unspoken request in her eyes, he drew her close to him.

The touch of Hermione's lips was gentle and tender, like nothing Snape had ever experienced before. It was so soft, so comforting - like a gentle flame reaching in to warm his soul. He was certain, in one perfect, blissful moment, that he could never feel pain or anger or hatred again.

Last night, he had taught her passion and fear, but now, for all her young innocence, she had become the teacher. And he had so much to learn. He had never before felt so vulnerable. She was awakening in him a need - not a lust for her body, but a need for her soul. He wanted to hold her and protect her from the world, but somehow it seemed that his greater need was for her to protect him. He had no idea where these thoughts were coming from, but they scared him more than anything ever had in his life.

Willingly, he surrendered himself to her as they kissed. Their tongues met and explored each other, as they held each other tenderly. He wrapped his fingers in her hair and caressed the soft waves, feeling a thrill of joy as her fingertips stroked the back of his neck. Instinctively, his body responded, and he started to pull her closer, but stopped himself at once. He mustn't do that - he couldn't trust himself right now. Imperceptible though his movements had been, she seemed to be aware of them, and subtly pulled away, smiling shyly. There was no hint of criticism in that smile - more of an understanding between them.

"Let's sit down," she smiled. Taking him by the hand, she led him round the chair and gently pushed him into it. He felt a little foolish being led like that, and more than a little nervous as she calmly reached for her wand and pointed it at him with a mischievously coy smile. No, not at him - at the chair. A muttered word, and the chair widened slightly, allowing her to slide in close to him, placing his arm around her, and resting her head on his shoulder.

It was the first time that Snape could remember laughing in a very, very long time. Occasionally, he allowed himself a sneer or smirk, but laughter was a sensation long forgotten. It brought a tremendous sense of relief as he held her close to him. This was something he must do more often - and he had a feeling that laughing was something he would not find difficult, in Hermione Granger's company. Just one of the many things he knew he could learn from her.

Her wand was still in her hand as it lay in his lap, and with an unexpected sense of fun, he reached out for it. Using someone else's wand was not exactly taboo, but was not often done. However, it seemed appropriate in this situation, and Hermione gave it up freely.

"You forgot something," he smiled. With a flick, he aimed it at the empty fireplace, which promptly sprang to life with crackling flames.

Laughing quietly, they snuggled close in its warmth, then sat in a comfortable silence, each mulling over the evening's events. The one thing that dominated the thoughts of both was how much things had changed for them in the last few days. It had been only Tuesday when they had spent their first few hours alone together, distant, but beginning to appreciate each other's company in a purely intellectual way. Now, Saturday, they were in each other's arms, unsure of their changing emotions but, for the moment, content to be so.

Beneath the surface, thoughts plagued both of them about both yesterday and tomorrow but, for a few contented hours, they pushed them aside.

In the early hours of the morning, Hermione awoke. Turning to look up at Severus, she smiled at his sleeping face. Trying not to disturb him, she slipped from his arms and stood, stretching. The fire still burned in the grate, its glow on his pale skin. Leaning close, she traced the scratch on his cheek with a finger, then kissed it.

Leaving him sleeping, she stepped out of the office and hurried back to the Gryffindor tower and to her bed, thankful that, as a Sixth-year and a Prefect, she would not be questioned too closely by the Fat Lady about her late return. Now, if Ron and Harry had noticed, that might be another story - - -


	7. Trust

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Trust**

"Get off me, you great, slobbering mutt!" Ron was picking himself up out of the mud as Fang raced around him, having bowled him over and trampled him in happy greeting.

Hagrid grinned in apology, calling his faithful boarhound to him, and stood aside to allow his two friends into the hut. "On yer own?" he asked. "Where's Hermione?"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"We're not sure," said Harry, with a hit of disapproval in his voice. "She left the common room earlier, and we don't know where she went. She's been really secretive the last few days -sneaking off and not telling us where she's going."

"'Ave you ask'd 'er about it?" asked Hagrid.

"She said she couldn't tell us," muttered Ron. "No idea what she's up to. Yesterday evening she disappeared and was still not back in Gryffindor tower when we went to our rooms - and that was at past eleven!"

"And she wasn't in the library," added Harry, "We looked."

Hagrid thought for a minute, then laughed. "Sounds like Hermione's got a boyfriend!"

Harry gaped. "No way! She would have told us!"

"Yeah - Why wouldn't she?" Ron looked affronted.

"'Cos she's a girl," stated Hagrid, decisively, "an' girls don' always want ter talk about - - - stuff."

Harry and Ron were not convinced.

"But - - -," Ron started, " - - - but - - - even if she did have a boyfriend - - - Who would it be?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid, "but if she wants yeh ter know, she'll tell yeh. And 'til then ye'll just have to trust 'er."

The two boys looked dumfounded.

"Treacle toffee?" asked Hagrid.

When Hermione appeared at Snape's door, he had a surprise for her. She slipped quietly into his office, but after giving her a gentle kiss, he led her by the hand back into the dungeon classroom. On one of the desks was a row of a dozen jars, neatly laid out and labeled in the same fine hand as the rest of the stores.

"For you!"

Hermione studied the jars, curiously, and Snape watched as she realized the significance of the plants they contained.

"Bumbleflower, Candyweed, Myth - these are all plants I'll need for my project," she exclaimed. He waited for her to continue. "But don't you already have these in your stores?"

"Indeed, but these are unprepared." He picked up a jar and held it up to the light, studying it. "The ingredients I have are all at least partially prepared for use, but the preparation methods we use today are vastly different from those used at the time of the wizards you are studying. Rupert the Blood-letter would have had much different equipment and tools from the ones to which you are accustomed. To be thorough in your research - which I, as your Potions Master, insist you are - you must prepare your own ingredients from their natural state."

Her smile made his efforts in obtaining these items well worth it - despite having to listen to Sprout's excited rambling about her precious Mandrakes, when he'd asked for her assistance in the greenhouses. What made it even more gratifying was her enthusiasm as she quizzed him on their preparation. Such a wonderful mind, in one so young.

Beginning work on the project had not really been Snape's intention, but he found her eagerness to be contagious. It was almost an hour later when, steaming the Myth in a small cauldron (at her direction), he felt a small hand reach up to brush a strand of his hair from his face.

"Severus. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to drag you into my project!"

He took her hand and kissed the fingers. "I enjoy watching you work. Besides, I have only myself to blame." He forced a stern look onto his face. "I believe I spoke rather severely of the need for commitment to this project, Ms. Granger!"

She returned his formal words. "You did, Professor Snape." Her face broke back into its smile. "Let's clear up."

Soon, the cauldrons and jars neatly cleared away, he took Hermione by the hand and began leading her to his office.

She held back. "Where do you live?" she asked him.

Snape stopped and turned to her. He was glad she'd asked - he'd wanted to suggest going there himself, but didn't want to risk making her uncomfortable. "Would you like to see?" She responded with a smile, and a squeeze of his hand. Reaching out, he took her face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Then, taking her hand once more, he led her to the back of the classroom. There was no sign of a door, but at a touch of Snape's wand, part of the wall began to shimmer. As he stepped through, it simply parted like a curtain, and Hermione followed, feeling a strange tingling sensation - like a thousand tiny pinpricks on her skin - as she passed through into the dark corridor on the other side.

It took several minutes of twists and turns to reach a large wooden door. "That wasn't the quickest way," Snape explained as they walked, "but the other way passes a corridor that leads to the Slytherin Common Room. It might look a little - - - odd - - - if I were seen leading you to my private quarters!" Odd was hardly the word for it!

Two things caused Snape apprehension on the way to his rooms. Firstly, she was his only visitor. Since he'd first joined Hogwarts, he had never once allowed anyone inside his private rooms. What would she think? The second thing, which gave him far more concern, was how each of them would act. Given the fact that he had - - - given the way he'd acted only two nights before, he was amazed that she would trust him in such privacy. And could he trust himself? He'd been terrified, the previous night, of overstepping the line. Controlling himself had been difficult, and he could not live with himself a day longer if he ever hurt her in that way - or in any way - again.

He'd been over this so many times in the past few hours, though, and knew that his only options were either to resolve his will and swear that he would never permit his weakness to overcome him, or never to allow himself to be in the same room as her. He made his choice, and pushed open the door, inviting her to step inside.

She looked around. So this is where the dark and mysterious Severus Snape hides, she thought. It was a darkly elegant room, with high bookshelves, reaching floor to ceiling, displaying huge leather-bound volumes. Two armchairs, of a deep crimson hue, were angled towards an imposing fireplace, framed with black marble.

At the other side of the room, a grand dining table, with six ornate chairs, was set with a single candle and a place-setting for one. The only other items of furniture in the room were a large grandfather clock, a writing desk with the lid closed and two small tables with books. Hermione had never really tried to picture his rooms, but if she had, this is exactly what she would have imagined.

"It suits you," she smiled. "And it's perfect!" She gazed in awe at the shelves of books, and began studying the titles. They were mostly Potions and Dark Arts, but one surprised her, and she reached out to touch the spine.

"Shakespeare?" she asked. "I didn't think you'd be interested in Muggle literature."

He smiled darkly. "He has some interesting thoughts on the subject of Death."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I should have guessed you wouldn't be reading the love sonnets." She continued her exploration as Snape conjured a fire then leaned against one of the fireplace's marble columns to watch her.

"You may find this one rather interesting." He had picked up a small book from a table next to the armchair, where it had been lying open, and held it out to her.

She took it from his hand and read the gold lettering on the cover. "Practicality in Potions - by T.K.Bung"

"It includes references to the work of Rupert the Blood-letter," Snape told her, "and some useful insights into the preparation of ingredients at the time. The inspiration for my little gardening expedition this afternoon."

Hermione's arms reached around him in a hug. "Thank you for the plants, Severus." She squeezed him. "It was such a thoughtful thing to do." She felt his arms wrapping around her, and detected a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Well, Miss Granger, this is an important project for you, and I am still your teacher."

"Then, your interest was purely academic?"

"Naturally," his voice was a low growl.

"In that case - Thank you, Professor Snape!" She reached up to his face and drew his head down to kiss him. Their lips touched gently, then parted as they caressed each other. It felt so good to be holding him close again, and to feel his hands softly stroking her back. Tingles began to run through her - warm tingles that made her glow inside. Her body was reacting to him, and she loved it. Pulling him closer, she stroked the back of his neck with her fingertips, remembering the effect it had had on him last night, with anticipation. She slipped an arm round his waist and drew his hips towards hers, feeling his reaction through his robes.

He straightened a little, breaking their kiss and pulling his lips out of the reach of hers.

"Hermione." The eyes she looked up into were full of desire, but his face showed his control. He didn't need to say more.

"Make love to me, Severus," she whispered.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply. "I don't want to hurt you."

She could hear the pain in his voice, and re-assured him. "I trust you. Just - - - be gentle."

He stared down at her for several long moments, then his lips once again took hers - this time with an edge of hunger that was matched by her own. He seemed reluctant to reach for her robes (understandable, thought Hermione, as she had tried to knee him in the groin the last time), so she made the first move herself by unclasping his robes and pushing them back off his shoulders. His black shirt was partially open underneath it, and she ran her finger from his neck down to his chest.

They took their time undressing each other, savoring and exploring each other's bodies with hands and tongues. She learned that she could make him arch his back in pleasure by teasing his nipples with a flick of her tongue, and that there was a place on his back that was sensitive even to the slightest touch of her hand.

They made their leisurely path to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. She sank to the bed and he followed her down, kissing her neck and face.

Hermione couldn't help but hold her breath as she felt him begin to push inside her. Their eyes locked as he did so, and she relaxed as her body instinctively moved against his. She felt him withdraw then push deeper - slowly and tenderly - making her release a soft sigh. It was nothing like their previous encounter. Severus' movements were controlled and clearly focused on not repeating the pain he had caused her.

Only when he was almost at climax did his thrusts become more forceful, and Hermione responded with her own rhythmic motion, reassuring him of her want.

They lay side by side, gazing into each other's eyes, as Hermione stroked his cheek.

But Hermione didn't feel quite the same peace and contentment that were showing on his face. If anything, her emotions now were more of a tangle than they had been two nights ago. How did she really feel about this man? He had been so tender and considerate this evening - how could he have been so different then than he was now? Yet somehow, despite that night, she felt such a reassuring comfort as they lay together, that she could hardly even reconcile the two opposite images into a picture of one man. Saying nothing, she drew against him, enjoying the warmth of his body as he held her, and allowing the soft whisper of his breathing to lull her to sleep.

She awoke in panic. The details of her nightmare were fading fast, but broken images still flashed through her mind - Severus' face in front of hers - - - pain in her body - - - unable to move! She struggled from underneath the bed's heavy covers and ran to the other room, where the fire had died to a red glow. Tears were streaming down her face, and her body was shaking with sobs. She clutched a chair for support, trying to calm herself, but was surprised by Severus' sudden grip on her shoulders.

"Hermione," his voice was urgent, behind her, "what's wrong?"

Her heart raced in alarm, as she writhed free and moved away from him. He hadn't intended to frighten her, she knew - just to comfort her - but the reaction was automatic.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she sobbed, "but I have to go."

As Hermione quickly pulled on her clothes, Snape stood helplessly in the middle of the room. Reaching up with both hands, he ran his fingers through his hair, and stood cradling his head, as though protecting it from a blow. He should have expected this, and he certainly deserved it. How could she ever trust him?

How could she ever trust anyone again?


	8. Potions

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Potions**

Monday morning meant Potions. Harry's least favourite subject from his first week at Hogwarts had failed to move up his popularity list at any time since. Today, Snape's mood appeared to be fouler, if possible, than usual. He wore a scowl on his face and was pacing the dungeon like a caged tiger. There were several things, however, that Harry noticed were different about today. For a start, Snape's mood appeared to be causing problems for everyone - not just the people he usually chose to belittle and humiliate. Malfoy, for instance, was the recipient of a growled "Stupid boy!" for being unable to name the three basic uses of Gillyweed, and Crabbe and Goyle lost Slytherin five points each for spilling their potion into Pansy Parkinson's bag. Secondly, the Potions Master did not seem to take his usual delight in victimizing those who found the work difficult. In fact, he barely noticed when Neville Longbottom inadvertently added three times the required amount of batwings to his cauldron, and his concoction started to send out pink fumes. Most surprising of all, Snape actually paid a compliment to a Gryffindor. Harry never would have believed it, but he heard the words "Excellent, Ms. Granger," as Hermione's potion turned to the green hue that was required.

Hermione, however, was also in a peculiar mood, and appeared to ignore Snape's compliment entirely. Harry turned to Ron in disbelief, but his friend just shrugged. Without words, Harry understood - maybe this was just another example of Hermione's unusual change in attitude lately.

When Snape began quizzing the class on memory potions, the bizarre behavior continued. Harry had discovered, the previous year, that an amazingly successful tactic to avoid being asked a question during this class was to look like he knew the answer. If Snape saw him with his hand in the air he would never dream of asking. It was so successful that Harry had even taken to putting his hand up when he didn't have a clue, just to be certain that he wouldn't be asked. Thankfully, this was not one of those occasions as, unbelievably, Snape picked him, then answered with a curt "Correct!" Hermione's hand was not in the air, which was odd in itself, but Snape chose that time to ask her a question. Her answer was, of course, perfect, despite her lack of enthusiasm, but Snape paused for a moment before his rumbled "Correct," then moved on.

The rest of the class went ahead relatively normally. Snape had not changed completely, Harry noticed, as the teacher sneered at Ron's gray mixture, bubbling in his cauldron. Nor did he seem inclined to let them off homework, as he assigned them an essay to be handed in by Thursday. As the class packed up, Snape's voice cut through those of the students, "Ms. Granger. I need to discuss your project with you. Return here for a few minutes after your final class of the day."

She must have heard him, but gave no indication of it as she left the room, followed by a puzzled Harry and Ron.

Hermione was furious as she stormed down to the dungeon after her last class. "What the hell was all that about this morning?" she demanded. "Do you have any idea how suspicious my friends are already, without you acting the way you did?"

Snape's voice was cold. "What?" he rumbled, dangerously.

"Do you realize that since the first day I arrived at Hogwarts, that's the first time you've ever done anything but sneer at my work in class?" she fumed. "What are people supposed to think?"

"They are supposed to think, Ms. Granger," - Snape's voice was ominously low - "that I expressed satisfaction with the work of a student. I believe that, as a teacher, I have that prerogative?"

"Not when - - - "

Snape interrupted. "As for my behavior, I hardly think you are in a position to criticize, considering your own little display. Did you think that your refusal even to acknowledge me would avert attention?"

"I was just trying to cover for your mistake!"

"Then how am I supposed to act around you, if today was a 'mistake', as you put it?" Although Hermione had been witness to the many negative emotions shown by Severus Snape over the years, it was unusual for her to see real anger in him. Usually, he was far more in control of his emotions, but now, despite the apparent calm in his voice, there was rage under the surface. It brought out the worst in her, and in a moment of fury, she shouted the words that she hadn't even realized she was thinking.

"Well, maybe you should have considered that before you raped me!"

The words seemed to hit both of them like a slap in the face. There was a moment of silence, then Hermione started for the door.

Snape was just a little too quick for her, with his wand, and the door slammed before she could reach it.

"SIT DOWN, HERMIONE!"

Hermione had only heard her professor's voice raised on a very few occasions. Usually, even a whisper was enough to achieve his aims, so to hear his voice reverberating round the dungeon like a cannon stopped her in her tracks. Slowly, she turned. Pointedly, he stepped aside, to allow her to cross to an armchair without having to approach him, but she defiantly remained where she stood. After a moment, he accepted this, standing at a distance as he spoke.

"Hermione," he began, his voice calm once again, "I have done things which can be neither forgiven nor forgotten, by either of us. However, we do have to find a way to deal with this situation. I am still the teacher and you the student. We have to be able to handle classes and everything else that goes on in the school, with some control or neither of us will be able to cope with the rest of the year."

Despite the appearance of calm, Hermione was still seething. "So you're saying we should both just pretend that nothing has happened?"

"Of course not," he snapped, "but another lesson like this morning and anyone with half a brain will start wondering what's going on."

"And you're worried about your job," Hermione's statement was intended to hurt him, but instead, it brought further anger.

"If you're planning on using the threat of my losing my job as your trump card in every hand, then you might as well go and tell Dumbledore what happened, right now," he snarled. "I won't play that game!"

Hermione regretted her words immediately. "No," she whispered. "I've made my decision about that, but, Severus - - - " she paused, " - - - you have to give me some time to come to terms with things."

"I understand, Hermione," he sighed. "I only wish... "

The knock at the door made both of them jump, and Dumbledore's head poked around a moment later. "Ah, Greetings, Miss. Granger. I'm sorry to interrupt ...discussing your Potions project, I presume... I just wanted a word with Professor Snape." His beaming face showed no indication that anything was amiss.

Hermione forced herself to smile back. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore. I was just leaving."

Snape's voice followed her as she reached the door. "We will continue this discussion very soon, Ms. Granger."

"Yes, Professor Snape." She stepped out of the dungeon.


	9. A Tangled Web

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - A Tangled Web**

The door to the dungeon classroom was left slightly ajar as the Headmaster exited, leaving the Potions Master alone.

Oh, God. He knows.

Dumbledore had not been there long - he had called in to discuss a matter relating to inter-house co-operation between prefects (something with which the Slytherins appeared to have a great deal of difficulty) - and had mentioned nothing relating to Hermione, but Snape was convinced that he knew.

He tried to think back to what had been said immediately before Dumbledore arrived. She had called him Severus. Could it have been heard? Depending on when he had first arrived, the Headmaster could have heard part or all of their earlier conversation. Snape had said something about telling Dumbledore what had happened, and before that, there was the whole incident with the slamming door and the shouting. Worst of all, if the headmaster had been on his way into the classroom at the wrong moment, he could have heard Hermione's statement about being raped, and had the door slammed in his face!

Hermione had told him that she would not tell anyone about what happened, but what good was that if the secret got out by accident? A few days ago, Snape had accepted Dumbledore's knowledge of the situation as inevitable, then, for reasons unknown, he had been granted an unexpected reprieve. Now he was back in the same situation, having to face his actions once again.

And yet - nothing had been said about it once Hermione had left. It was possible that his worries were groundless. The door had been closed, and, towards the end at least, they had been speaking quietly. Maybe Dumbledore had heard nothing, and what Snape was feeling was simply paranoia. Surely, the subject was such a serious one that it would have been brought up on the spot if anything had been overheard?

But no - this was Dumbledore! The wizard had a way of knowing things that he couldn't possibly know. He had an uncanny insight into - well, everything - including minds. Surely no deception could elude him?

He knows.

The words rang, once more, in Snape's mind. His thoughts came full circle, and he found himself again wondering how much had been overheard of his conversation with Hermione. For hours, the arguments looped in his head - one minute convincing himself that his days, and even hours, at Hogwarts were numbered - the next berating himself for his paranoid suspicion of the world.

Even in his moments of hope, assuming Dumbledore knew nothing, whatever happened or did not happen between himself and Hermione Granger, this was only the start of the lies and deceptions that would, inevitably, play a part. To him, this was commonplace - he would not have survived his own past if he were not an accomplished master of deception - but to bring her into it was wrong. He had done her enough damage without forcing her to lie to her friends and bring herself to his level.

The thought that Dumbledore may have overheard began to lose its sting. Maybe that would be the best thing all round.

Hermione's thoughts were following a similar path. Over and over again, she repeated the exchange in her head, picturing Professor Dumbledore's horrified face outside the door as he listened to the conversation he had inadvertently interrupted. Like Snape, she felt sure that if he really had overheard anything, he would have said so immediately, but like Snape, she couldn't help but feel that the old professor always seemed to know what was going on, whether he heard or not.

What had he said to Severus after she'd gone? Maybe he had wanted to confront him about it without her there. As the time moved on, she became more and more convinced that this couldn't be the case, though. She was sure she would have heard something if this had happened, but the possibility still made her mind reel.

What the experience did for Hermione, despite her agonizing apprehension, was re-enforce her decision to stay silent. She didn't know why the thought of Dumbledore knowing sickened her so much, but she realized, more than ever, that she wanted the events of the last few days to remain between Severus and herself. The thought of him leaving the school left her cold.

Hermione had a big advantage over Snape, in the fact that she was surrounded by friends. Not that she could confide in them, of course, but having to give the appearance of normality kept her mind from dwelling constantly on the thought of having been overheard. Ron and Harry's concerns about her behavior that day had filled her with guilt about the deception she was forced to maintain. There was nothing she could do to prevent that, but she could, at least, not aggravate the situation by arousing further suspicion.

They had asked, naturally, what Snape had wanted to talk to her about, and she had told them they had discussed the authentic preparation of the ingredients she would need for her potions. At least it was partially true. One thing she was beginning to learn was that Harry and Ron were not only difficult for her to lie to, but difficult to fool. She had tried to avoid saying too much about where she was going and what she was doing, but even so, she had almost tripped herself up a few times. She had heard a phrase, somewhere - Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive! Being a compulsive truth-teller, its meaning had never really occurred to her, but now it had suddenly become very relevant. She took it to heart, and, with this in mind, told her friends that she would be spending the next couple of evenings in the dungeon, working on her project.

Unfortunately, this also brought her attention back to the earlier events, and the incessantly looping thoughts of what Professor Dumbledore might or might not have heard. She had not intended to head back to the dungeon that evening, but when Snape did not appear in the Great Hall for dinner, and she was unable to glean anything from surreptitious glances at the Headmaster, she made an excuse of needing a book from the library and told Ron and Harry that she would be back in half an hour.

It was an incredible relief to hear that Dumbledore had said nothing to Severus. He had seemed reassured to see her, and she hated to think what he had been going through, assuming that it was far worse for him than for her.

They spoke for only a few minutes - Hermione not wanting to be too long before returning to the Gryffindor common room, where her friends expected her - but it gave both of them a little strength. Before Dumbledore had interrupted them, their anger with each other had almost subsided, and the thought of such a close call had made it seem irrelevant.

"I told Ron and Harry I'd be working on my Potions project tomorrow evening, so I'll come back then - - - if that's okay with you," she added.

"Of course that is acceptable, Ms. Granger," he said stiffly. "You may work on your project at any time." For a moment, she was taken aback, until she noticed the glint in his eye. "Good night, Hermione."

She was almost at the door when, on a sudden impulse, she turned back to him. "I'm sorry about earlier," she said. Moving quietly round his desk, where he sat, she bent to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Severus."

The events of the day preyed on their minds that night, but for both, the prevailing thought was of what tomorrow would bring.


	10. Fire

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Fire**

Hermione had encountered Professor Dumbledore only once since that evening in the dungeon, and had been given no indication that he knew anything about what had happened, or that he had overheard any of the conversation he had interrupted. It had been over two weeks since the incident, and things had settled into a more comfortable state for Hermione and Snape.

They had spent several evenings working in the Potions classroom together and were enjoying each other's company more and more. Hermione insisted on not accepting too much assistance from the teacher ("It just wouldn't be fair, Severus!"), but was happy to improve her knowledge of Potions, through discussions of the subject, and ever more demanding quizzes.

"It's getting more difficult to catch you out, Ms. Granger," he commented, as she was able to explain in more detail than he'd expected, the effects of a particularly complex (not to mention gruesome) poison. What particularly interested Hermione about the man, which she had not been aware of before, was the depth of his knowledge of other subjects. They discussed everything from Muggle studies to Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes to Charms. She found it fascinating to hear alternative viewpoints and be able to discuss and challenge her theories in a way that she did not usually have the opportunity. Snape liked to play the role of Devil's Advocate, challenging her assumptions about even the basic concepts, then watching in amusement as she struggled to defend her position. Hermione found it a wonderful way to learn. She even managed to turn the tables when it came to Muggle Studies, where she was the clear authority, and Shakespeare, a love of which she had learned from her mother.

On two of their evenings, they were not alone. Although Hermione was the first of the sixth-years to begin her project, everyone else had to start their own at some point. Hermione was unique in her choice to combine her two favourite subjects into a combined project and mark. Everyone else had to choose two projects. Potions was not the most popular subject, and there were only two others who chose it. Both were in Hufflepuff, and had chosen to work on complimentary themes. Snape had found it amusing (carefully hidden, of course) when they had explained their idea to him. Alex Bale was studying the brewing of poisons, while Thomas Gem worked on the antidotes. The Potions Master approved both projects after first grilling them on their plans. Only Hermione could tell that his threat of failing both of them if either of them happened to die of poisoning was simply to cover his pleasure at their inventive concept. With Alex and Thomas in the dungeon, the four of them mostly worked in silence or in quiet discussion - Snape marking books, the students preparing, chopping, brewing and occasionally testing. It was a surprisingly peaceful atmosphere in the dungeons, and each of them seemed to find it productive.

Harry and Ron were also working on their projects, both choosing Care of Magical Creatures (a very popular subject), while Ron opted for Charms and Harry chose Transfiguration.

For the care of Magical Creatures projects, students were allowed to carry out either practical or theoretical assignments. The list of creatures available for practical care did not, understandably, contain dragons, so a highly disappointed Ron was forced to study them from a distance, using both his brother's knowledge and his own, limited, first hand experience of the subject. To be honest, Hagrid was far more disappointed than Ron about this omission from the list of allowable creatures. Hermione suspected that he had seen this as his opportunity (purely in the interest of the education of the class, of course) to try raising another Norwegian Ridgeback!

Harry's selected creature was less adventurous, but had the double advantages of not being illegal, and the fact that he happened to own one. ("You don't mind being my sixth-year project, do you, Hedwig?") He'd had the beautiful snowy owl since his eleventh birthday. Hagrid had bought her for him in Diagon Alley as a birthday present, the day that they had gone to buy Harry's things for his first term at Hogwarts. But even though they'd been together for so long, Harry realized that there were many things that he still had to learn about her, and found his project to be very enjoyable.

Both Ron and Harry now knew about the amount of time Hermione was spending working on her Potions / History project, but they were still suspicious about her behavior. They had told her of Hagrid's guess at what was going on, and she decided not to try to talk them out of this belief. It was at least partially true, in that she was sneaking off to spend time with a - a what? Hardly a boyfriend! A man? A lover? Unfortunately, knowing this partial truth didn't prevent them from wanting to find out the rest.

"Who is it, Hermione?" demanded Ron. "At least tell us what house he's in. He can't be in Gryffindor or we would have seen you!"

"He's not in Gryffindor," confirmed Hermione, quietly.

Harry joined in the attempts at persuasion. "Then which? - Not Slytherin!"

She couldn't help smiling inwardly at that. "No, he's not in Slytherin!" He's just the Head of House! Why couldn't they just drop this need to know who it was?

She had no way to know it, but things would only get worse.

In contrast to the previous class, where everything had gone so badly wrong, Potions lessons had now become quite fun for Hermione, although no-one would have believed it if she'd said so. Snape appeared to have reverted to his former loyalties and was once again showering the Slytherins with praise and deducting House Points from Gryffindor at every opportunity.

Snape had begun one lesson with a lecture about the sixth-year projects - amusing Malfoy no end when he informed Hermione, "Do not assume, Ms. Granger, that Professor Binns' leniency in marking will, in any way, influence the grade I assign."

Later during the lesson, her mind had wandered and he had caught her gazing at him. For a second, he was caught by surprise and she detected a hint of embarrassment before he pulled himself together. "Ms. Granger!" he snarled. "This is a Potions lesson, and I believe you have work to do."

"Sorry, Professor Snape."

He continued, with a sneer, "If you wish to daydream of your star-crossed lover, kindly do it in your own time!"

Her friends were infuriated by this. Hermione was relieved to find that, despite their current debate over the same issue, Harry and Ron were still willing to come to her defense and support against Snape - ironically, the one person from whom she needed no defense. Luckily, they mistook the expression on her face for anger at Snape, rather than seeing the truth, which was that she was trying desperately not to collapse in laughter!

Snape had, naturally, seen more of the Headmaster than Hermione had, but nothing had been said about the student, directly. Once or twice, over coffee in the staffroom, the Potions Master thought he had seen Dumbledore observing him pensively, but the fact that nothing was spoken convinced him that it was simply his own guilt making him so fearful of discovery that he was imagining things. Apart from his ongoing concerns about this, the time had been very enjoyable, and he was beginning to realize just how much Hermione Granger was coming to mean to him.

He smiled to himself as he watched her work. Her hair fell across her face as she pored over her neatly written notes, and she brushed it aside absently, oblivious to how endearing the action appeared to her teacher. Carefully, she measured out six drops of newt's blood and added them to the steaming cauldron in front of her. The result was not what she had predicted, judging by her face, but she appeared unconcerned and amended the notes on her scroll.

You have the objectivity of a true potion-brewer, he thought, watching her. And you're incredibly beautiful.

She was too engrossed in her work to notice when he quietly stood and approached her. It was only when he was almost beside her that she looked up with those wide eyes and smiled at him. How could a smile make his heart miss a beat like that? How could she affect him so much?

"See what I've found?" she asked, indicating her notes. "In each of the last four tests, the combination of Myth and newt's blood has had the effect of raising the boiling point of the potion, which explains why the potency has been increased." She picked up the newt's blood again, and raised it over the cauldron. "I'll try six more drops to see the effect."

"Let me help you," he offered. Stepping up behind her, he reached around and placed a hand over her own on the bottle. They poured the six drops carefully, and then stirred the mix, her hand guiding his as they did so. Calmly, Hermione picked up her wand with her other hand, and pointed it at the door. The lock clicked. In front of them, the mixture turned a deeper shade of red in response to the added ingredient. Snape moved to her scroll on the desk, picked up her quill and added to her notes in his own hand, then moved silently back to his position behind her. He reached out once again to 'help' her stir the cauldron.

The change in Hermione's position was so slight that Snape only gradually became aware of her pushing backwards so that their bodies touched. He reached up with his free hand to touch her hair, allowing it to slip though his fingers in a beautiful cascade, back to her shoulders.

"Did you want to help me or distract me?" Hermione asked softly.

Snape smiled. No question about that one. "I want to distract you," he murmured, truthfully.

Hermione continued stirring, as his hand left hers and slid up her arm to her shoulder. "Then you're doing an excellent job."

Moving slightly to the side, he reached up again to her hair and, gathering it in his hand, pushed it to one side to expose pale smooth skin. He thought he detected the slightest of sighs as his fingers gently stroked the back of her neck. He bent to kiss the same place, but stopped himself. Without allowing his lips to touch her, he gently blew a soft breath of air over the skin, this time eliciting a deeper sigh as she stopped stirring the cauldron. Her head fell slowly forward, exposing her neck to him and he responded by allowing his lips to touch her ever so gently.

His voice was hoarse and deep as he murmured, "You have a beautiful neck, Hermione." Her skin was warm under his touch, and her sighs seemed to reach all the way to his heart. He placed tiny kisses on her skin, feeling his passion grow at every moment.

With a hand on her shoulder and one under her chin, he turned her slowly and lifted her head to his. They kissed deeply and tenderly, their tongues meeting and their arms encircling each other. Hermione's body pressed close to his and he knew she could feel his arousal. Her arms caressed his back, making his whole body ache for her.

He pulled away from their kiss and gazed longingly into her eyes. "I want to take you to my bed."

The smile in return made him glow inside. "I thought you'd never ask!"

Snape's attention turned, just for a moment, to the still-simmering cauldron, and he muttered a single word. Immediately the potion cooled and darkened. Then he turned back and lifted Hermione lightly into his arms.

She barely noticed the journey through the 'door' at the back of the classroom and down the long corridors to Severus' rooms. Her eyes were locked on his face and her arms about his neck as he carried her, and she quickly found herself in his room. He set her on her feet and took her face in his hands, kissing her hungrily as she reached up for his robes.

What Severus had begun on her neck in the classroom, he now continued on the rest of her in his bedroom. Hermione found herself laying naked on his bed, while his gentle fingers stroked her back, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. His lips kissed her shoulders and made their way down her back. His hands massaged her muscles, relaxing her to the point where she could barely move, but when he rolled her onto her back, she stopped him.

"No, Severus," she whispered, pushing herself up on her elbows, "Lie down!"

He kissed her and did as she said. "What are you going to do with me?"

Good question. Her only experience of this was with Severus, and in their previous encounters, he had been leading her. She really wasn't sure how to please a man, other than by allowing her body to respond instinctively to his touch. She would just have to make this up as she went along. Gently, she pushed him down to the bed, and kissed him, running her hands over his bare chest as she did so.

As she explored his chest with her hands and tongue, she could tell the effect it was having on him. His nipples were firm as she flicked at them, and clearly as sensitive to her touch as hers were to his. A little nervously, her hand reached down to touch his hard penis, and stroked it gently, enjoying its unfamiliar shape and feeling.

What she enjoyed even more was the thrill she gained from his gasp as she tentatively took him in her mouth. Stroking the inside of his thighs with her fingers, she teased him with her lips, enjoying the fact that she could make him moan with her gentle movements.

"Hermione!" His voice was broken and unsteady. "This feels so wonderful - - - just there - - - a little slower - - - Oh, God! Hermione!" She followed his instructions, learning how to give him pleasure, and enjoying hearing him gasp out her name. His responses grew more intense, then he suddenly pulled her away from him, panting. "Wait!"

What was wrong? Had she hurt him?

"Not yet," he moaned. "I want to be inside you, Hermione."

Hermione called out his name feverishly, as he entered her. It was wonderful to feel him inside her. He thrust into her, the rhythmic pressure against her body arousing her to a state where she could think of nothing but him. Only the two of them existed or mattered as they held each other, and everything outside that room was just a fading dream. They climaxed together, calling each other's names and holding tightly as though they couldn't bear to let each other go. Hermione's fingernails once more cut into Snape's flesh, but this time, as a few drops of blood trickled down his back, he didn't object.


	11. Things that Happened in the Night

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Things that Happened in the Night**

"It's after Midnight, Harry," Ron's voice was becoming agitated. "We should do something."

Harry had to admit that he was worried too. "There's nothing we can do, though, Ron," he replied, uncomfortably. "She's practically told us that she's seeing someone. She can make her own decisions about who she sees and how late she should stay out."

Ron was not convinced. "But, we've no idea who it is or anything. Besides - I've got a feeling that there's more to this than her meeting a boy. All this stuff with her project is giving me the creeps. She heads down to the dungeon almost every evening and doesn't get back 'till late. She's hardly even been to the library for two weeks. It's just not like her."

"So what do you want to do?" asked Harry. It was clear that Ron would not give up easily on this, so maybe it would be best to see what he suggested.

Ron thought for a moment, then answered, decidedly, "I want to go and check out the Potions classroom where she's been working. Just to see if there's anything - well - odd."

"Do you really think that will help?"

Ron shrugged, helplessly. "I don't know. It's just a feeling. But at least it's better than doing nothing!"

Eventually, Harry was persuaded and, feeling more guilty with every step, they made their way to the dungeon. Neither of them liked the idea of spying on Hermione - especially under the cover of Harry's invisibility cloak - but they felt they had to know what was going on, and there was no other way they could wander around the school at this late hour, without attracting attention.

They reached the dungeon without much difficulty - there was a worrying moment when Filch seemed to hear something as they passed, but he moved off in the wrong direction - and they were soon outside the door to the classroom. Just in case Snape was inside, Harry knocked quietly, and listened for an answer (they could always run if the Professor was actually there), then, hearing nothing, Harry reached out and turned the handle.

Locked. Raising his wand, he muttered "Alohomora!" and the lock clicked. With a last quick glance up and down the dark corridor to make sure no-one was around, they opened the door just enough to let them through, then slipped inside. They shed the invisibility cloak as soon as the door was safely closed behind them, and looked around. The room was empty, but one desk in the center looked like someone was still working there. Ingredients were set out on the table, one with the packet left open and the contents half spilled onto the desk, several scrolls lay open, as though someone was in the middle of reading them, and the cauldron still had a handle protruding from it.

Harry's first thought was that whoever had left the room like this would be in big trouble when Snape saw it. He hated disorganization, and would never have allowed anyone to leave their work set out like that. They both stepped closer, to examine the items more closely.

"This is Hermione's stuff," said Ron, suddenly. "Look - that's her bag on the floor!"

He was right. Harry picked up some of the things from the desk, acknowledging, unhappily, that they were hers. "Why would she have left everything here like this?" he asked, bewildered.

Ron was just as mystified as he. "Snape'll kill her if he sees everything left like this! How could she have left it all?" They continued poking around, more and more baffled and concerned about why it was there.

"I wonder what happened to this potion," Harry muttered, stirring the blackened mixture and puzzling over its unusual consistency, which was thick and gloopy.

Ron, however, wasn't listening. Hermione's quill rested on one of the scrolls, looking like it was in use, and Ron was studying the neat writing. Most of it was in their friend's infuriatingly precise hand, but the last two lines, while equally immaculate, were a different style. It looked very familiar. Harry turned to see what had caught Ron's attention so much, and it was he, reading over the other's shoulder, who recognized the penmanship.

"That's Snape's writing," he gasped. "Look. It's the same as the labels on all these bottles." Harry tried to find some difference in the writing styles, to disprove his own statement, but could find nothing. There was no doubt about it - the last two lines of Hermione's notes were written by Professor Snape.

The same questions were going through the minds of both boys. Why was Hermione's work left out like this in such an un-Hermione-like way? Why was Snape's handwriting in her notes? Most importantly - Where was Hermione?

Ron voiced all of these difficulties for both of them in a single question. "What the hell is going on?"

A sharp voice from behind them made them both spin around.

"That's exactly what I'd like to know!"

"Professor Snape?" Argus Filch's voice accompanied the insistent knocking that was penetrating Snape's sleep. The knock came again, then the voice, a little louder.

Damn the man! What could be so important that he would disturb people at this time of night?

Carefully, he moved to extricate himself from Hermione's sleeping arms, and pulled on a loose robe, irritably. If the caretaker knocked any more he would wake her. He hurried through the outer room, to the door, pulling the heavy crimson drapes across the doorway between living room and bedroom as he passed. He pulled open the door and glared at the intruder.

"Yes, Filch?" He made no attempt to cover his annoyance, but Filch seemed not to notice.

"I thought that you might like to know, Professor," he began in a voice that grated on Snape's ears like nails down a blackboard, "that I've just caught two students breaking into your classroom. No doubt stealing ingredients from the stores, or brewing illicit potions."

Under normal circumstances, Snape would have dealt with the matter himself, immediately, but the thought of the warm and beautiful body in his bed overrode everything else, and he had no intention of leaving it for longer than was absolutely necessary. "Then please be good enough to handle the matter yourself, and I will speak with you in the morning. Arrange for them to report to me tomorrow night at eight o'clock for detention."

Filch seemed to take this as confirmation that he had done the right thing. "Certainly, Professor. And I will also arrange to have the mess they've made in the classroom cleaned up."

It was an offhand remark, but it triggered alarm bells in Snape's mind. Hermione's things were where they had left them. That must be what Filch meant! Quickly, he interceded. "No. I'll look at the evidence myself in the morning. Leave everything exactly where it is and touch nothing!"

The caretaker seemed to feel that this would be very suitable, and left to deal with the two students. Despite Snape's dislike of the man, he had to admit that their ideas on the severity of punishments for rule-breakers were very much in line. Filch would deal with the wrongdoers appropriately, and he would have time to come up with a suitable detention for them.

His thoughts returned to his bed, and he locked the door and returned to Hermione. Her arms slipped around him once again as he slid into bed beside her. She didn't wake, but smiled in her sleep as he stroked her face. He watched her for a long time.

What had he done to deserve this angel? She was so beautiful, so gentle, so forgiving. After everything he had put her through, she would have every right to hate him, but she treated him like he was someone special. Who else would do that? Even amongst the teachers, there were few people who would call him a friend. Hermione was the first person in a very long time who actually chose to spend time with him. She enjoyed his company and liked to talk with him. She was interested in what he had to say, cared about what he thought. Whatever he had done to deserve this, he knew that he felt more loved, more needed than at any time he could ever remember before.

Am I in love with this girl? The question suddenly popped into his head out of nowhere. He certainly felt like he was in love - not that he had much experience of these matters - he ached when she wasn't with him, felt elated when she was. He admired everything about her - her mind, her body, her soul - the way she smiled at him made him feel like his heart was on fire, and being in her presence was bringing out the best in him. This must be love.

But the realization of this made him feel terror. He was so much older than she, and could hardly be her ideal man, despite her current feelings for him. If he told her that he was in love with her, he would lose her, he was certain. He would frighten her and drive her away, making her think truthfully about their relationship, and she would see his flaws and weaknesses. If he forced her to think about where they were going, she would realize that they could not possibly have a future together. Whatever he was feeling, he had to keep it to himself, or risk driving her away. It would happen eventually, but he had to hold on to her for as long as he could. The day that she really thought about this would be the day his heart would turn black. Don't ruin this, Severus, by scaring her away.

But despite his thoughts on this, as he drew her warm body close and drifted into sleep, the words formed on his lips and softly escaped, unwilling to be held back. "I love you, Hermione."

Neither of them was aware that the words had been whispered, but they drifted into their subconscious, and there was a soft smile on each face as they slept.

High above them, approaching the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Harry were considerably less happy. Things could not have gone worse for them that evening. They had not only failed to find Hermione, they now had considerably more worries about her than when they'd set out, after finding her things left in the Potions classroom like that. Secondly, they had earned themselves a detention with Snape the following night, and thirdly, Harry's invisibility cloak was still in the dungeon where they had left it.

Filch had not seen the cloak, and they'd considered trying to go back for it, but the caretaker's promise to be watching the classroom made that impossible. They'd been told that the room would be left until the morning, so that Snape could see the state of the room. He would know immediately whose cloak it was and would probably confiscate it indefinitely. Worst of all, the rest of the things he would find in there were Hermione's. When he saw them, would that put her project in jeopardy? He had been so horrible to her in the last couple of classes - far worse than usual - that they were sure he was looking for any excuse to go back on his word to let her complete her project. It meant so much to her.

Dreading the morning, they trudged up to their rooms, knowing that they had no option but to wait.


	12. Surprises

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Surprises**

It really wasn't clear to Hermione at what point she realized she was awake. The barrier between dreams and reality seemed to be hazy and the transition from one to the other was gradual. She had no memory of her dreams, except for feelings of peace and utter contentment. Her whole body was warm, and she felt almost as though she were floating. Totally relaxed, and she allowed her mind to drift, surrendering completely to the feeling of perfect tranquility.

Gradually, she became aware of more physical senses. Her body was being stroked and caressed gently, and there was something else. It was a warmth between her legs that was the source of this sensation. She sighed and stretched her whole length. Wonderful. There was movement. Her body was responding with gentle motion as she finally got the sensation into focus. Severus was well below the covers of the bed, and his tongue was taking long slow strokes at the most sensitive part of her body. It was heaven. It was perfect.

She moaned slightly. This was the most amazing way to wake up! Taking his time, Severus teased and coaxed her, not letting her become too excited too quickly. He drew out the experience, leading her to the edge, then drawing her back, letting her get closer and closer then pulling her away. Hermione could never have imagined a feeling like it. After a long and wonderfully pleasurable experience, Severus finally brought her to a blissful climax, and she lay, breathing hard, wanting to hold that moment for as long as possible. But he didn't stop. His tongue was still caressing her, and she found herself still responding with her excited body. "Severus!" She could hardly breathe his name as he brought her to a second climax, shuddering, and feeling as though she could stand no more pleasure.

This time he gave her a moment to come down from her high, then began moving upwards. He kissed her stomach lightly, then moved to her breasts. She arched her back, pushing herself up to meet his suckling lips, and moved her hands down under the covers to stroke his back. She could feel his erection on her leg, and smiled in anticipation.

Eventually, he continued his journey upwards, his head protruding from the covers, as he looked up at her with his dark eyes gleaming. With a smile, he kissed her lips and she felt him pushing his hardness into her. It was the perfect finish to her amazing awakening, and it was only when they lay, satisfied and content, in each other's arms, that he whispered into her ear, "Good Morning, Hermione."

Despite her wish to stay in Severus' bed - and Severus' arms - all morning, Hermione had to get moving. She had to clear up her things in the classroom and get her bag, then head back to the Gryffindor tower to her room before anyone realized she had not been back last night. Harry and Ron might have stayed up to wait for her, but she would just have to tell them that she arrived very late.

The professor went first into the Potions classroom, to check that all was clear, then Hermione followed. She began collecting her things together as Severus cleared up the spilled ingredients and ruined potion.

Suddenly, something caught her eye on the floor behind a desk. Her stomach gave a jolt as she picked it up, recognizing it immediately. "Severus!" She held it up to him, knowing that he would recognize it as well. It was Harry's invisibility cloak.

The implications of this hit Snape with a shock. "Damn the boy!" he snapped, angrily. "Why can't he just stay out of things that are nothing to do with him?" Quickly, he told Hermione of Filch's visit in the night. "I had no idea he was talking about Potter and Weasley."

Hermione thought quickly. It seemed that Filch did not know about the invisibility cloak, but Harry and Ron would assume that Snape would find it. Unless... "I'll take the cloak with me," she said. "I'll tell them that I left my things here last night, and left Gryffindor early this morning to get them. I found the cloak and brought it back."

"How will you explain last night?"

Again, she thought. "If Filch was at your door around one o'clock, then we know that they weren't in the tower at that time. If I say I arrived then, they won't know I wasn't there all night. I'll tell them that you said you wouldn't be back in the classroom until this morning. That's why I wasn't worried about leaving my things when I went to visit my boyfriend!"

Their stories now straight, Hermione headed for the door, pausing for a final embrace.

Snape sighed. "I hate the fact that you have to lie to them. Deception doesn't suit you."

"Would you rather I told them the truth?" laughed Hermione.

He pretended to consider this for a moment. "Well - on second thoughts... !"

Hermione was very glad that she'd taken the invisibility cloak back to the Gryffindor tower, as it went some way towards smoothing things over with her friends, after last night. She really couldn't see how they could blame her for what had happened - after all, it was they who were spying on her - but neither could she get too angry with them for their underhand methods. She was lying to them, and it was sweet that they were worried about her.

She had rushed to her room as soon as she'd got through the portrait hole, grabbed her books for her first class, and been sitting in the common-room waiting for them when they'd come down for breakfast.

"Ron! Harry!" she called, as soon as she saw them. "What on earth happened last night? I went out early to get my books from the Potions classroom, and found your cloak there!"

Harry gaped as she handed it out to him. "You mean Snape didn't get it?"

"He won't have even been into the classroom yet," she told them. "He left last night while I was working, and said he wouldn't be back. I left my things there last night, then went back to get them early this morning."

Ron was breathing a sigh of relief. "We thought Snape was going to kill you when he saw everything left there. But... even if you planned to go back this morning, it's not like you to leave things in a mess like that." Clearly he was still suspicious.

At least for this, Hermione could tell them half the truth. "Well, when my - boyfriend - came in, I really wasn't thinking about my project." Ron and Harry were looking very uncomfortable about this, but she continued. "I know it's not like me, but can't I be spontaneous occasionally?"

Clearly, the two boys found the topic of Hermione's love life a little uncomfortable, and Harry changed the subject, or so he thought, to Professor Snape. Breakfast was spent discussing what punishment they would receive for being in his classroom in the middle of the night. Hermione heard all the details from them, about being dragged off to Filch's office, lectures being given, records being written and files being updated with this latest infraction. But having to deal with Filch was nowhere near as bad as the punishment they knew they were in for tonight. They thought of the previous detentions they'd had with Snape, and wondered what new horrors he would dream up for them this time.

Hermione found this an awkward conversation. The dislike of Snape had always been something they'd had very much in common, and, until recently, she would have joined in the conversation wholeheartedly. As far as Harry and Ron were concerned, nothing had changed in regard to the hated Potions Master, but for Hermione, it was as though they were talking about a completely different person. She had no idea how Severus would treat them tonight. Maybe his attitude had changed towards them, but she doubted it. And why should it? Why would her relationship with him have any bearing on how he treated her friends? She was torn between not wanting to put them through a detention that she knew they would hate, and not wanting to feel that her relationship with the teacher would compromise his position and integrity. Thankfully, she realized, it was not her decision to make. Severus had to be the one to determine how to act in this situation, and she would accept that. In the meantime, she simply had to grit her teeth and listen to her friends run down her lover, trying not to jump to his defense!

Avoiding listening to the conversation, her mind wandered happily back to her waking moments that morning, as it had been doing since the moment she had left him. It had been the most incredible experience! His touch. His tongue! She felt her body reacting at the mere thought of him kissing her. It had been less than two hours since she'd climbed out of his bed, and yet she could think of little else. Making it through the day was going to be difficult. She would go to Ron and Harry's detention with them, she decided, and work on her project while they were there, but that was hours away! How would she cope in the meantime? Even thinking about him made her feel warm and ...

"Hermione?" Ron's voice cut into her thoughts. "What's up? You were miles away!"

Not miles, thought Hermione, just in the dungeon.

They finished breakfast and headed to their first class.

At ten to eight that evening, the three friends were heading down to the dungeon - Ron and Harry miserable and dejected, Hermione with her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing Severus after so many long hours without him. Just as they were about to start down the long steps into the depth, a voice called out to them from behind.

"Miss. Granger?" It was Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione's fluttering heart stopped still. Stay calm, she told herself. It could be nothing.

"I'm glad I ran into you. I wonder if we might have a chat?" His voice was friendly and his smile warm, but Dumbledore was not one to give away too much.

She forced a smile and tried to keep her voice light. "Of course, Professor Dumbledore."

Harry and Ron paused with her, then at the Headmaster's "Carry on, Gentlemen. I believe you have a detention," they continued, reluctantly, down the steps.


	13. Dumbledore

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 13 - Dumbledore**

Snape had had a very unproductive day. His first year class had been utterly useless, failing to produce a single effective shrinking potion between them, and as for his fourth-years - the less said about that class, the better. The pile of students' homework he had intended to mark that day lay, untouched, on his desk, and the test he needed to finish writing for the fifth-years remained incomplete. The only useful thing he felt he had achieved during the day was to decide on a suitable punishment for Potter and Weasley.

Yet, despite all of these things, he was in a surprisingly good mood. How could anything spoil his disposition after waking up next to Hermione? He wondered how things had gone with explaining things to Potter and Weasley. They were interfering little brats, but it was good to know that she had such concerned friends. No-one would notice or care if he didn't return home at night - except her. Still - that didn't alter the way he felt about the Potter boy. She wouldn't expect it to, he knew, and she would never ask for any special treatment of them because of their relationship. Those innocent, idealistic principles!

She would be here in a moment. They would have to act as they did in lessons - distant, even antagonistic - but at least he would be able to see her. Maybe he would be able to get her alone for a few minutes. ("A word in my office, Ms. Granger!") Maybe.

He heard a knock at the door, which then opened. Potter and Weasley.

Where was Hermione? He almost asked them, but held himself back. She did not have a detention - she had no reason, as far as they were concerned, to be here. Control yourself, Severus! She would arrive, in time, he was sure of it. For now he needed to focus on the students in front of him. He watched them enter the classroom nervously, and stand in silence, waiting. He remained at his desk, studying them intently, but saying nothing. They twitched in front of him - unsure of what he had in mind for them. Finally, Weasley looked as though he were about to speak, but Snape, waiting until the last awkward moment, interrupted him.

"I'm not going to ask you two what you were doing in here in the early hours of the morning," he snarled. "I don't want to hear your lies."

Weasley seemed determined to speak, anyway. "Sir, we... "

"Silence!" the teacher hissed.

The last thing he wanted was to get into the details of what they thought, and why they were there. He wasn't supposed to know anything about Hermione's things being there, or Potter's - James Potter's - invisibility cloak. Best to avoid the subject altogether. He focused on their detention task.

He had the book he required on his desk, and he stood, reaching for it. It was a large book, and heavy, so that when dropped on the desk in front of the two boys, it produced a very effective crash. They flinched, visibly, and Snape sneered. "Your punishment for this evening will be to create a potion for me, at the request of another teacher," he told them. "I am, in fact, grateful to you both for breaking into my classroom last night, as I find the task of preparing this potion every year to be a particularly unpleasant one. You have given me the perfect way to avoid doing the distasteful task myself." He smiled mockingly, to emphasize his point. The two boys in front of him exchanged glances, and Snape was pleased to see the effect his words were having on them. They were absolutely true, in fact, and the excuse not to have to create the potion himself was perfect. Their timing could not have been better.

He continued, circling the two boys and watching them fidget, apprehensively, "Page four hundred and seventy-two of the book in front of you contains instructions on how to create Greenbottle's Tonic - used to enhance the soil in the greenhouses and gardens, to improve growth in the plants, and provide some protection against insects." He pointed to a row of fifteen jars lined up along one side of the classroom. Each jar stood tall enough to reach his knees. "You will produce enough of the tonic to fill each of those jars. Professor Sprout requires large quantities of the product."

For a moment, the two boys stood dumfounded, staring at the bottles. Quite the intended effect! Snape snapped them out of it with a growled "Get on with it!" and returned to his desk.

He made no attempt to conceal his close scrutiny of their work as they began. Their nervousness was clear, and they fumbled the ingredients as he watched. It would do them good to be put under pressure.

It took him a moment to form the words to ask about Hermione. For over five years, he had snapped at her and criticized her work, along with every other Gryffindor in his classes, but the change in his feelings towards her over the past few weeks had been so dramatic that he now found it almost impossible not to speak of her with affection. "I suppose Granger will be here this evening, to continue work on her project?" he asked, trying to make it sound like a nuisance he would have to endure.

Potter's news that she had been held up by Dumbledore caught him totally off guard. However many times he told himself that the headmaster knew nothing, a word or glance was enough to renew the fear of discovery. And Hermione had spent the night in his room! Surely, if the old man suspected anything, he would have approached the teacher, not the student... but Dumbledore was not the most predictable of wizards.

Fighting the urge to charge out of the dungeon to find them, he continued his watch over the two students working in front of him. "Be careful with that bottle, Weasley!" he snapped, irritably.

Without thinking, he pushed himself out of his chair, wanting to pace the room, and making Potter jump. Catching himself, he forced his feet over to a cupboard, picked up a book from inside it and returned to his desk, where he sat, staring unseeing at the pages.

Itching to do something - anything - he waited.

"Shall we step in here?" Dumbledore gestured to a classroom to one side of the corridor, and stepped aside to allow Hermione to precede him.

Hermione's mind was racing with the possible reasons for the Headmaster's request for a 'chat'. He always seemed to know everything about what went on in the castle. Maybe he was intending to confront her about her relationship with Severus. Maybe he knew that she'd spent the night in his room. Maybe ... This is pointless, she told herself. Just sit down and stay calm, or you'll end up blurting things out and ruin everything.

She sat on the edge of a desk, and watched as he did the same, with a surprisingly nimble motion.

"About your project, Miss Granger," he began immediately. "I understand that your work is going extremely well."

Hermione was cautious, not sure where this was leading. "Thank you, Professor. I think I'm making good progress, and I'm enjoying working on it."

He smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. I admit that I've taken a special interest in this project, and I mentioned it to an old - a very old - school friend of mine. He carries out his own research on this subject, and is, in fact, writing a book which has some close links to your project." Hermione was starting to lose her caution, and become interested in this. Dumbledore continued, "He has expressed an interest in reviewing your work, once it is complete, and possibly including your results in his book - giving, of course, full credit to yourself - if your findings prove useful."

This was incredible. "To get my research published would be amazing, Professor. Do you think he really would?"

"Of course he would, if the results merit publication - which I'm sure they will." Dumbledore beamed at her. "I thought you might be pleased about this!"

Pleased was not the word! She was ecstatic. Books were her life - her passion. To have her work published would be wonderful. She couldn't wait to tell Severus about this.

Dumbledore's face suddenly took on a more serious expression. "I'm glad to hear that you are taking such an interest in the practical side of this project, Miss Granger. I've heard that you've been spending a lot of time in the dungeon." Hermione felt the blood drain from her face at this abrupt change. Could this man read minds? His tone was casual, but she had a feeling that this was no off-hand remark.

Stay calm, Hermione, she told herself. "There's a lot of this project that can only be done through practical experimentation," she answered, trying to keep her voice steady, but convinced that her face was betraying her. "I know that I'm traditionally a bookworm, but theoretical research can only go so far."

"And you have embraced the practical aspects with vigor," Dumbledore remarked. He paused before continuing, giving Hermione the impression that he was choosing his next words very carefully. "Many students seem to find Professor Snape a difficult person to work with."

It was a statement, but Dumbledore seemed to expect a response. Like the professor, Hermione took a moment to choose her words. "I'm very glad that Professor Snape approved this project. I'm learning a lot."

His words were quiet. "He is a very knowledgeable man, and a powerful wizard."

Hermione pretended to misunderstand him. "He's not helping me with my project, Professor. It's all my own research."

"Naturally," Dumbledore responded quickly. "I would expect nothing less of you." He considered her, thoughtfully, for a moment, before continuing. "On another note, Miss Granger, I hear that you have a mysterious new" he paused at the word - "boyfriend."

This drew a sharp breath from Hermione. The fact that this followed so closely on the heels of his comments about Severus hardly seemed like a coincidence. Was he deliberately baiting her - waiting for a reaction? She said nothing, and after a moment or two of silence, Dumbledore continued.

"I'm not in the habit of interfering with the personal lives of students, Miss Granger, so I won't say too much about this." He was staring intently at her, and she held steady under his penetrating gaze. "You have a great deal of sense and are mature enough to be of your own mind. However, if things are as I suspect, then I need hardly tell you that I cannot approve. I feel the need to request that you exercise some caution - and discretion - in this matter."

Oh, God!

Hermione could see two possibilities. Either Dumbledore was simply warning her about the dangers of an intimate relationship at her age, or he knew exactly whom they were talking about. It was possible that his suspicions related only to the nature of the relationship, not to the identity of the other party. And yet... his comments about Severus ...

In a moment of strength, she looked up into his face. His expression was grave and concerned, but not angry. She held his gaze for a long time, trying to read what was behind those unfathomable eyes, but eventually looked away.

"Yes, Professor."

There was silence between them for a moment, then Dumbledore stood and gave her a slight smile. "I will keep my friend informed about the progress of your work. I know he is keen to know your results." His voice was almost back to its customary cheerfulness, but still with an edge of something deeper. "And now, I believe you are expected in the dungeon, Miss Granger."

Hermione turned to him as she reached the doorway, unsure of whether to say more. His back towards her, he appeared to be staring towards the rear of the classroom, and his stance did not invite further conversation. She left in silence.

Out of sight of the classroom, she stopped, leaning against the cold stone wall of the corridor, and glad of its support. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths. Her relationship with Severus seemed to be getting more complicated day by day.


	14. Greenbottle's Tonic

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Greenbottle's Tonic**

Hermione stopped in disgust as she got close to the dungeon classroom. What on Earth was that smell? It was like a wall that hit her as soon as she got within three feet of the door, and it took a great deal of effort to force herself forward and into the classroom.

The Potions classroom was a mess. Harry and Ron were standing in the center of the room, with four large cauldrons around them. Their sleeves were rolled up to their elbows, and their arms were stained a dark green. The same green stained their robes, the desk, and the floor. Each cauldron was filled almost to the brim with the dark mix, bubbling loudly, and occasionally producing large bubbles, which would then pop, releasing clouds of green gas into the air, and showering the area with a heavy dust, which settled over everything. Harry's face showed smudges of green, where he had wiped his cheek with a dirty hand, and Ron had even managed to get the stuff in his hair, the red and green contrasting strongly.

Between trying not to gag at the foul smell which seemed to get stronger by the minute, and trying not to laugh at the sight of her friends (who did not seem to find the situation even remotely amusing), Hermione almost choked herself, and covered her mouth and nose in an attempt to hide both sensations.

"What are you making?" she finally managed to splutter.

"It's called Greenbottle's Tonic,' Ron answered her grumpily, "and we need to make fifteen jars of it for Professor Sprout." He pointed to the row of large empty bottles - seemingly the only things in the room that were still not green.

Harry motioned towards Snape's office. "Professor Snape said that if you wanted to work on your project, you could work in there." He quickly turned to stir one of his cauldrons, narrowly preventing it from bubbling over. "He said he'd put a charm on it, so he didn't have to smell this stuff! Urggh!"

That, at least, was a relief - partly because she needed to speak to him alone, but mostly (and this now seemed to be taking priority) to get away from that smell! She mouthed a "Sorry" to her friends, knocked at the office door, and entered in response to Snape's irritable grunt.

Severus stood hurriedly as she entered, waiting for her to close the door before speaking. "Potter told me Dumbledore stopped you!" he said urgently. "What happened?"

After a couple of relieved breaths of the cleaner air, Hermione answered him, crossing the room to perch on the aim of a chair. "We have a problem," she said simply. As closely as possible, she recounted the conversation she'd had with the headmaster, trying to remember the exact words that had been used, so that Severus could try to glean more information from them than she could.

"He said he'd heard that you had been spending a lot of time in the dungeon?" he asked, repeating her words.

Hermione nodded. "And then said that some people found you difficult to work with. He seemed to be trying to see my reaction."

The words that seemed to worry Snape most were Dumbledore's comments that if his suspicions were correct, he could not approve. What did he suspect?

"Do you think he really knows about us, Severus?" Hermione asked, tentatively, reaching for his hand.

He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "Yes," his voice was serious. "I can't be certain, but I believe that he knows everything." A faint smile caught the corner of his mouth as he re-considered this statement. "Well - maybe not everything!"

Hermione smiled at that. He was a mystery to her. For more than five years, he had been cold, aloof, harsh and even frightening. Now, he was a passionate man, with a love of life and a dry sense of humor. Had he always been this way and she'd simply missed it?

She forced her thoughts back to the problem in hand. "Professor Dumbledore said that I was old enough to make up my own mind," she said thoughtfully. "He said I should use caution and discretion." Snape said nothing, but allowed her to continue. "Assuming that he does know, does that mean that he won't interfere as long as we're discrete, even though he disapproves?"

"I just don't know, Hermione," he answered, his shoulders sagging. "Dumbledore is a law unto himself. The fact that he had said nothing to me almost makes me feel that he is not sure, but - - - I just don't know."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose all we can do now is to be discrete, and assume that he knows."

"Or rather," corrected Snape, "assume that he doesn't know! We need to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible."

Hermione thought of something else that Dumbledore had said. "What do you think he meant by 'use caution'?" she asked Severus.

Again - that smile at the corner of his mouth. "I think he was telling you to be careful about getting mixed up with someone so - dark! It's good advice, Ms. Granger."

Hermione smiled. "Actually, the phrase he used was 'a powerful wizard'! I like the sound of - - - "

Both of them were startled by a sudden knock at the door. Hermione instantly jumped up and moved towards the store cupboard, and looked deeply engrossed in searching for a missing bottle by the time Ron had opened the door at Snape's growl.

"Sir," Ron said, poking his head round the door, "we've run out of Bowerroot." As he spoke, he made the most of the air inside the office, then hurried back to the classroom, as the professor snapped out instructions on where to find more of the ingredient.

"Maybe it would be best," began Hermione, as the door closed behind him, "if we didn't see each other tomorrow. It might let things cool down a little." She hated saying it. Not seeing Severus would be torture, but they could not let things get out of hand with Dumbledore so interested in what was going on.

Snape seemed to see this too, but the pain in his eyes was evident. "Not seeing you could be the death of me, Hermione," he moaned. "But you're right. It's Saturday tomorrow, and maybe they - - - " he nodded towards the classroom, and Ron and Harry, " - - - would be less suspicious, too, if you spent the day with them."

Feeling unable to stay in the office for too long, without raising suspicion, Hermione left shortly afterwards. She stopped at the doorway to give him a long and longing kiss, but eventually had to force herself to leave. She was a little behind on her schoolwork, and headed towards the common room, making the most of her time alone. It was very late by the time Harry and Ron returned to the Gryffindor tower, still green and reeking of that foul-smelling potion. As they, in turn, questioned her about what Dumbledore wanted, she realized, with a pang, that she had not mentioned the possibility of her work being published to Severus. She couldn't wait to talk to him about it!

But before she could do that, she had to last through the whole of Saturday without him! Tomorrow was going to be a very long day!


	15. A Long Day Apart

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 15 - A Long Day Apart**

The previous night, Harry and Ron had been too tired to ask much about Hermione's chat with Dumbledore, but the next morning, they were keen to hear the full story.

"Did he say when it would be published?" asked Ron, eagerly, as they headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

"No," replied Hermione, "but he said he'd be keeping his friend informed about the progress, and it sounds like the book is already half written."

"It's a pity you don't know his name," said Harry. "We could have looked in the library for anything else he's published." Hermione agreed, and wished that she'd thought to ask Dumbledore for his friend's name, but at the time she had been thinking of the other things the headmaster had wanted to discuss.

By the time they reached the Great Hall, Harry was all for going to Dumbledore to ask him more about his friend's book, but Hermione was not keen on the idea of approaching him. "Maybe he doesn't want to tell me too much, so he doesn't get my hopes up," she suggested. "Let's just wait. He'll tell me when he wants to."

She was extremely pleased that Ron and Harry were taking such an interest in her news. They were good friends, and they seemed almost more pleased for her than she was for herself. Ordinarily, she would have been over the moon about the news, but her excitement was dampened by the other things on her mind.

Changing the subject, she asked, "So, what happened in your detention?"

The two boys told her the whole story. Snape had given them the book that contained the instructions for the Tonic, and had then sat at his desk staring at them.

"I don't know what was up with him," said Ron, "but he seemed in a really bad mood. He just sat there staring and criticizing for ages."

The potion they were making had been going okay for the first ten minutes or so. The ingredients had already been prepared for them by two Ravenclaw second years, who had been unfortunate enough to land themselves with detention a few nights previously. (Severus had told Hermione about the hilariously gruesome incident that had led to that detention, but she kept this news to herself.) The potion had been a little messy and they'd spilled some from one of the cauldrons onto the floor, but they thought things were going well - especially when Professor Snape had finally stopped scrutinizing their every move, and left the classroom. He'd told them he would be in his office and that 'Granger' could work on her project in there, when she arrived. At first, they had thought it a little odd that the professor would suggest that Hermione work in his office, but they soon realized the reason.

"The sneaky git must have been watching for when we'd be adding the leech juice," complained Ron, bitterly, "because he left just before everything went crazy!" The potion had called for two drops of the dark liquid in each mixture, and the boys had added this in all innocence. Without warning, the green potion had begun bubbling and steaming, pouring over the edges of the cauldrons and sending up plumes of green smoke. That was when the smell had hit them.

Harry screwed up his face at the memory. "No wonder he told us he wanted to give someone detention so he didn't have to make that stuff himself!" he seethed. "He got out just in time. It had all been okay until a few minutes before you arrived!"

"It was pretty foul by the time I got there!" Hermione agreed, trying to sound sympathetic, but holding back her laughter once again, at the memory of the two of them standing in the middle of the classroom, covered in the dark green substance. "You're both still green, by the way," she told them. Their hands were still stained, even though they looked liked they had been scrubbed raw in an attempt to remove the coloring, and there was a trace of the stuff on Harry's face. Even a small section of Ron's hair still showed evidence of their detention task. By the look of it, the only way to remove that would be to cut his hair!

"Anyway," Ron continued, "it took us ages to get the stuff ready and into the bottles. Then we had to clean it all up. That was just as bad as making it."

They told her that Professor Snape had, at least, given them the option to finish cleaning up that morning, but they had been determined to get it out of the way. His mood had evidently improved a little by the time they left, which Harry put down to the fact that he had enjoyed making them suffer so much.

"The only thing that can make him happy is to make everyone else miserable!" he stated. Hermione suppressed a wry smile. She happened to know one or two more ways to make him happy!

Instinctively, she glanced round to the teachers' table in time to catch a pair of dark eyes on her from across the room. She looked back at Harry and smiled, knowing that those dark eyes knew the smile was for them. "You're right, Harry," she grinned. "He just lives to make everyone else's life Hell!"

She couldn't help another glance at the top table, but this time it was not Severus that caught her attention, it was Dumbledore. His gaze was not on her, though, it was on the Potions Master, and this must have registered on her face, as, when she looked back to Severus, he had turned away.

Hermione purposefully looked away from the staff table, but Ron had apparently caught someone's eye, and was giving a cheerful grin in that direction. "Well, at least they're not all like Snape," he smiled. "Good old Dumbledore. It's such great news about your project, Hermione!"

She smiled weakly, and avoided looking over at Dumbledore, wondering how much he had seen of the glances that had passed between herself and Severus. It was beginning to appear that spending time apart was not enough to avoid the headmaster's suspicions. It seemed that, even in a crowded room, they could barely keep the fire under control!

As Hermione, Harry and Ron headed out of the Great Hall, a voice called out to them, and Professor Sprout hurried to catch up. "I'm so glad I caught you," she said. "I wanted to thank you two boys for the wonderful job you did with the Greenbottle's Tonic, and to award you ten points each for Gryffindor." She looked over her shoulder, then leaned conspiratorially towards the three of them. "Just don't tell Professor Snape!" she whispered. "He'd hate you to get points for something you did in detention!"

The four of them laughed and the professor set off down the corridor. Then she seemed to think of something and turned back. "You know, my Uncle Albert taught me everything I know about Herbology," she said, "but he did occasionally run into problems - such as," she gestured towards Harry and Ron's hands, "turning green from making Greenbottle's Tonic! You might want to look in the library for a book called '101 Magical Gardening Disasters (and How to Recover From Them)'. We used to have to use it a lot, with my uncle around!" She gave them a grin, and headed off in the direction of the staffroom.

"We'd better get to the library, then," said Hermione, setting off that way.

Ron and Harry followed. "I'm getting this strange feeling of déjà vu," said Ron, sounding puzzled. "I think I've heard you mention the library once or twice before... "

Snape waited until the three students were well clear of the Great Hall before leaving it. It was best to avoid running into Hermione wherever possible - especially as he seemed to be finding it impossible to keep his eyes off her while she was around. How much had Dumbledore seen? He almost wished that the old professor would confront him and get it over with - it had to be better than constantly worrying about what was going on in the headmaster's mind.

Worse, still, if the situation was so apparent to Dumbledore, did that mean that others could see it, too? He thought he always had his emotions under control, but Hermione was changing that. She was throwing him off balance and confusing his feelings. Maybe his face was betraying his emotions for the entire world to see.

No! He had to control this. Objectivity and control, Severus, he chided himself. Get a grip!

He had to get out of the castle and clear his head! Without really thinking about it, he headed for the lake. There was a cold wind outside and, coming straight from breakfast, he had no cloak with him, but that was good. Perhaps it would help to clear his mind, and he had never been worried by the cold.

He allowed his thoughts to drift as he walked, letting his feet and his mind lead him wherever they would.

How could things have changed so quickly? A month ago, he had no such anxieties. He knew who he was and what he felt - but then he had encountered a part of his being of which he had not been aware. Without any foreknowledge of his feelings, he had kissed Hermione and - he could hardly bring himself to think of it - raped her. He had no idea where those feelings had come from, or how long he had kept them buried beneath the surface, but since they had emerged they had become uncontrollable - demons that haunted him and made him wild and passionate, beyond the reach of his own senses. Yet, since that day, he also found himself more calm and focused than he could have imagined. It was as though she were bringing an order and purpose to his life that he had never realized it lacked. A little month!

Whatever his feeling about the past few weeks, he knew that what he felt now was somehow more 'real' than everything that had gone before. As though he were suddenly seeing the world in its true colors in the bright sunlight, instead of in shadows. Whatever Dumbledore thought or knew or said no longer seemed to matter. He had seen the look in Hermione's eyes that morning. He had seen the smile that he knew was for him, even though she had been looking away. He had felt her touch as she kissed him the night before. Those were the things that mattered to him now.

His feet led him on as he thought. Occasionally, he stopped and stood still, drinking in the air around him, or sat by the lake, staring into its depths, then set off once again, with no direction in mind. The peace and the solitude were exactly what he needed, and when he returned to the castle many hours later, late in the afternoon, he felt as relaxed and refreshed as though he had been out for a short stroll.

In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione Granger was curled comfortably in an armchair in front of the fire. It was late evening, and many of the Gryffindors had already gone to bed, but she stayed to enjoy the peace in the glow of the flames. She gently stroked the sleeping cat on her lap as she held her book to the light. "Practicality in Potions" - it was the book Severus had given to her from his library. She smiled at the thought, and read on.

In his rooms in the dungeon, Severus Snape sat comfortably in an armchair in front of the fire. He turned his book over in his hand - "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare". He had owned it for many years, but, while some pages were well worn, others had never been turned. He allowed the pages to flick through his fingers. Maybe he would select something different, tonight. The Sonnets, maybe? He smiled at the thought, and read on.


	16. Hearts Laid Open

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 16 - Hearts Laid Open**

Getting to see Severus the next day proved more difficult than Hermione had anticipated.

Most of the morning was spent visiting Hagrid. His face was beaming as he proudly showed the three students his pumpkins, all ready for the upcoming Halloween festivities. "Reckon I'll carve 'em in a couple o' days," he had said, happily, "ready to go into the Great Hall on Halloween mornin'. I'm right proud of 'em this year. Better than ever!"

She had planned on heading down to the dungeon in the afternoon, but as she turned the corner leading to the steps, she saw Professor Dumbledore looking as though he may be going that way too. He didn't see her, and she wanted to keep it that way. The purpose of not seeing Severus the day before had been to try to avoid their relationship looking too obvious. The last thing she wanted now was for the headmaster to see her heading for the dungeon, so she made a sharp right and caught up with Harry and Ron in the library. Regretfully, she decided that it would be safer to leave it until later, and settled down for an afternoon of study.

Snape was not at dinner, but this was not unusual for a weekend - she knew he preferred the solitude of his office or rooms to the crowd of the Great Hall. She parted from Ron and Harry as they returned to Gryffindor, careful not to let them see she was heading towards the dungeons. Thankfully, they didn't ask questions when she told them simply "I'm going to meet someone. Don't wait up - I might be back late!" They were still clearly intrigued by the mystery of her new boyfriend, but she welcomed the fact that they did not continue to pester her about it.

Reaching the bottom of the steps and turning towards the classroom, something in her subconscious made her stop - some intuition, telling her that she was being watched. Catching something out of the corner of her eye, she ducked just in time to avoid a book, which narrowly missed her head as it was hurled through the air.

"Peeves!" Her guess was confirmed by his inane cackle as another book flew past her. "What are you doing here?" This was the last thing she needed right now. All she wanted to do was sink into her lover's arms and cuddle by the fire, but the annoying poltergeist could very easily spoil this.

"Don't need a reason," he said, haughtily. "But you do! What's Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes-Always-Does-Her-Homework doing here? This isn't your House."

"Did you follow me, Peeves?" she asked, avoiding his question.

He cackled again. "Wanted to see what you were up to." He suddenly swooped down on her, his mischievous face close to hers. "Where are you going?"

Hermione had to think fast. "I'm not going anywhere with you following me. In fact," she ducked underneath him and began to re-trace her steps, "I think I'll head back to the Great Hall. Maybe there's more desert left."

Peeves was disappointed. "Spoilsport!" he whined, picking up one of the thrown books and taking aim at her head once again. At that moment, a bright figure appeared from a side passage a little way off, coming closer to them. A chill went down Hermione's spine as she made out the shape of the Bloody Baron. Peeves immediately bolted in the opposite direction, and at the thought of encountering the Slytherin ghost in the dark corridor, she had to admit that he probably had the right idea. Hurriedly, she turned and walked straight into the silent shape standing behind her. For a second, she panicked, as strong arms gripped her, but relaxed as Severus' voice spoke her name.

"Professor Snape," she said, for the benefit of the ghost still advancing on them, but, as she turned, it vanished.

Severus seemed pleased with himself. "A very effective method of getting rid of Peeves!" he said. "Although you didn't seem too keen on my little diversion."

Hermione smiled awkwardly, and shivered. "Let's just say that Peeves isn't the only one who would rather not run into the Bloody Baron. He's not the most popular ghost in the school."

There was a note of humor in his voice as they headed into the Potions classroom. "And I'm not the most popular teacher," he said, "but I like to think I'm not all bad!"

The door to the dungeon classroom closed quietly behind them and, finally in privacy, they closed the distance between them. "You have a few redeeming qualities, I suppose," she smiled, as she reached up to wrap her arms around her teacher's neck.

The glow of the fire was the only light in Snape's living-room, reflecting redly onto the contented faces of the two cozy bodies in the armchair.

After a day apart, it was wonderful to be able to talk and simply enjoy each other's company. Hermione told him about the possibility of having her work published, and he was as happy for her as Ron and Harry had been, telling her how much she deserved this opportunity.

"I know," he told her, "that I'm not alone among the staff, in considering you the most gifted pupil I have taught for many years."

Ron and Harry's comments on Friday's detention amused Snape very much when Hermione relayed them, saying that they had been absolutely right about him escaping to his office just before they added the leech juice. He was not, however, impressed to hear of Professor Sprout's disclosure of the means of removing the stains.

"Damn that woman," he growled. "The first time she asked me to make that foul stuff for her, I tried everything to remove the stains on my hands. She swore that the only way was to wait for it to fade! My skin was green for three weeks!" In the interests of preserving peace amongst the staff, Hermione decided not to mention the points that Ron and Harry had earned for Gryffindor.

Snape had been correct in his assumption that Hermione would not ask for special treatment for her friends, but she did hint that she felt he was a little harsh on many of the students.

"It's the way I am," he said, warily, "and I'm not planning on changing my teaching style!"

She laughed. "Don't worry - I wouldn't dream of trying to change the way you teach. Your style is legendary, and it wouldn't be Hogwarts without it!"

"Thank you."

"Young witches and wizards hear stories from their older brothers and sisters," she continued, teasing, "and live in terror of the day they have to face their first Potions lesson with the infamous Severus Snape!"

His voice had a hint of amusement in it - just a hint. "I think you've made your point, Ms. Granger."

She turned in the chair and kissed him. Looking up into his face, she suddenly knew that she had to tell him what she was feeling. Her face became serious. "Severus," she whispered. "You do know that I'm in love with you, don't you?"

As soon as the words were out of Hermione's mouth, she regretted them. She had wanted to say it so much, and hadn't been able to stop herself, but her insecurities took hold of her and told her it had been the wrong thing to do. He was a man so much older than she - he had experiences of life beyond anything she knew - how could he possibly reciprocate what he probably saw as a childish crush. It was true that what they had seemed special - and their lovemaking was wonderful - but his actions the first time he took her showed how much he was driven by passion. For him, this was a physical relationship. Even his words when they had decided to spend Saturday apart - Not seeing you could be the death of me - seemed to demonstrate this. He couldn't possibly feel the same way about her, emotionally.

His face confirmed the fact that it had been a mistake to speak the words aloud. He looked stunned, and couldn't seem to find his voice. Was he trying to find a way to let her down gently, or just recovering from the shock, she wondered. She found herself talking quickly, to cover the awkwardness as she plunged ahead.

"I know that there's a big age gap between us," she gushed, "and that this isn't as serious for you as it is for me, but I can't help the way I feel."

"Hermione... " he began, but she continued, desperate to put off for a moment longer the pain that she knew was coming. Why had she said it?

"Severus, I know that you're a very physical and passionate man. If this relationship is about that, and you don't have real feelings for me, then I understand. I should never have said what I did."

He spoke her name again. It was soft, but with the underlying tone that he used in class - the tone that had to be listened to. "Hermione," he murmured, "you can have no possible idea how much I love you." Hermione's breath caught in her chest. Was she really hearing this? "This relationship means more to me... You mean more to me... than anything else in the world."

It was Hermione's turn to be stunned.

She stared, unbelieving, into his face, trying to sort out the emotions inside her, then slowly drew his head down to hers. They kissed deeply, both feeling that a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. For each of them, the joy of being loved greatly surpassed the thrill of loving, and their hearts burned for each other.

Eventually, they parted, still held in each other's eyes.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Hermione, softly.

Severus smiled. "Well, I have a few ideas," he said, wryly, "but I wouldn't want you to think this relationship is just about sex."

Laughing, Hermione kissed him again. "That's not what I meant, Severus!" she scolded, mockingly. "I meant that if we feel this way about each other, and want to be together, what do we do about... ?"

Severus picked up the sentence " ...Dumbledore, Potter, Weasley... ?"

"... the rest of the school?"

There were so many obstacles to their relationship. Just being able to spend time together involved deception and subterfuge. Not to mention Dumbledore's suspicions and the midnight trip, looking for her, that had earned Harry and Ron a detention.

His face was somber. "The longer we spend sneaking around, the more likely we are to be caught," he mused. "We definitely need to think about how to deal with this." His fingers were stroking her face as he spoke, and slowly began moving downwards. His eyes acquired a mischievous glint as he stroked her breast through her robes, and started gently to pull the fabric out of the way. "In the meantime," he continued, "I think my other suggestion has some merits... "

Hermione smiled.


	17. Adventures

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 17 - Adventures**

Hermione stayed with Severus that night, leaving first thing in the morning to return to Gryffindor, have breakfast with Ron and Harry, then be back in the dungeon for Potions less than two hours later.

Not wanting to invite discovery, they had slept apart the next night, but Hermione had once again woken in her lover's bed on the morning of Halloween. Heading back to the Gryffindor tower, though, Peeves was causing her problems. He had caught sight of her hurrying stealthily through the corridors, and had raced quickly to catch up and buzz around her excitedly, wanting to know what Miss-Smarty-Pants was doing out of her house at that time. She had tried simply ignoring him, but he had raced ahead of her as she reached the bottom of a long staircase. He grinned nastily down at her as she placed her foot on the first step, then, with a loud cackle, grabbed the sword from the suit of armor at the top of the steps, and swung. The helmet was knocked from the body with a crash, and came bouncing down the steps with a clatter and clang that she was sure would wake the castle.

Hermione turned back down the stairs and ran. The poltergeist was behind her, but she had a head start, and with a few sharp twists and turns, she was finally sure she had lost him. Glancing nervously at a large clock as she passed, she ran quickly towards the tower in an attempt to make up the time she had lost avoiding Peeves.

She reached the portrait hole, breathless, and was let though with a disapproving 'tut tut' from the Fat Lady. The guardian to the Gryffindor tower had informed her, two days ago, that it was not her place to keep tabs on the sixth-years, and that, while she did not feel it would be appropriate to inform Professor McGonagall of Hermione's early morning returns to the tower, but she did not have to approve. Much to Hermione's relief, she had been true to her word in keeping it from the head of the house, but had made her disapproval very clear.

Hermione crossed the common room just in time. As she reached the stairs to the girls' dormitories, she heard voices behind her. A group of early- rising third-year boys appeared from the other stairs. Slipping quietly up the steps, she silently cursed both Peeves, for delaying her, and herself, for being careless enough to be almost seen. She had showered with Severus, but now took a few minutes to tidy her hair after her long run from Peeves, hug her rather disgruntled cat, and collect her books for the morning. The two boys were already waiting for her when she returned to the common room, and they set off for the Great Hall together.

At breakfast, Ron and Harry had some interesting news for her. It seemed that, after more than five years of hearing Hermione referring to it, quoting from it, and generally waving it under their noses, they had finally decided to read 'Hogwarts, a History', and had found it fascinating. Hermione found herself feeling very guilty about how little time she had been spending with Ron and Harry lately. She listened, with interest, as they told her some of the things they had been finding out about the castle, while she had been spending time in the dungeon.

"We found some references to tunnels that we couldn't find on the Marauders' Map, so we started doing some more digging," said Ron. "There are all kinds of books in the library that aren't really about Hogwarts, but refer to it. Look at this."

He handed her an old and fading book, with a scrap of paper marking the page. She read the title - "Legends of the Waters, by T. M. Hydra" - then opened it and read with interest the passage he had marked.

- - - however, not all of the stories of the merpeople have such strong supporting evidence such as this. For instance, one story, found in the ancient and thought-to-be-lost Kinsbury scrolls, refers to a series of caverns and tunnels below the water level of a particularly large lake, where merfolk and 'airfolk' could meet and communicate in the caverns' breathable air. It is said that this co-operation between land and water was instrumental in the recovery of the Spear of Ath, when it was stolen from Mer-chieftainess Murancra in 1622 - - -

"It doesn't mention where this was, though," said Hermione, cautiously. "What makes you think it's anything to do with the Hogwarts lake?"

Hermione was impressed with the amount of research that her friends had been doing into this. They had a long trail of books, scrolls and cross- references, all leading them to believe that somewhere from the Hogwarts castle, there were tunnels leading to underwater caverns in the lake. And they were determined to find them.

"We think they have to start from somewhere in the dungeons," said Harry. "You remember Nick's Deathday party? That part of the dungeon isn't used much, except for the ghosts, and it's a lot deeper than the rest - we think it has to be somewhere down there."

The two boys had been exploring the depths of the dungeons several times in the past week. Hermione couldn't help feeling a little hurt that this was the first she had heard of it, but then, she'd been spending so much time with Severus that she had hardly given them much of a chance to tell her. She'd been away so much that she had only once been to watch the Gryffindor Quiddich team practice, under Harry's captainship. Her friends meant so much to her, and she had been practically ignoring them - not to mention lying to them. Severus was right - they really had to decide what to do about either telling them or avoiding so much sneaking around so she didn't have to deceive them so often.

As they talked, she found herself growing as excited about the prospect of finding the caverns as they were. However long she spent at Hogwarts, she knew that she could never know even half of its secrets, but it would be fascinating to try to unravel more of them in their final years there. Ron's motives were, naturally, a little different. Living in the shadows of his older brothers, he was excited about the prospect of finding tunnels that had never been found by Fred and George, and couldn't wait to get one up on them for a change!

The Halloween Feast would probably be going on quite late that night, so they planned to continue their explorations the following night. Hermione was disappointed.

"I've already told Professor Snape that I'll be working on my project tomorrow night," she told them, "but if you're going the night after, count me in!" This would be perfect. It was all her own fault, she told herself, that she felt a little isolated from them, but sneaking around the castle under cover of Harry's cloak would be just like it always had been.

With the Halloween Feast that night, and adventures with her friends planned, not to mention tomorrow night with Severus, she had some fun nights to look forward to. She couldn't wait.


	18. Ghosts and Slytherins

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 18 - Ghosts and Slytherins**

Halloween was a wonderful event at Hogwarts. Back in her 'muggle' days, she had always enjoyed the images of bats, ghosts, ghouls and goblins at this time of year, but it had been a world apart from the place where these could become real.

Hagrid's pumpkins were every bit as fantastic as he had promised, carved with intricate faces, which moved and winked, and filled with tiny candles that cast flickering shadows around the Great Hall. The night sky of the ceiling was shrouded with thousands of bats flying above their heads.

As always, the food was spectacular, appearing onto the wonderfully decorated tables, covered with pumpkins and candles. A group of first-years were sitting a few feet down the table, and she smiled at a rather nervous- looking boy, who had found himself trapped in conversation with a talking skull that was perched in the center of the table, containing a black candle. He smiled back timidly, then blushed a deep red and looked away. She thought back to her first Halloween at Hogwarts and shuddered, remembering the Mountain Troll in the bathroom - it certainly seemed to be a night for strange events!

The entertainment from the ghosts at this time of year was always very enjoyable, and this year was no exception. They had surpassed themselves by writing a play entitled "All's Well that Died Well", which they presented after dinner. It had an intricate plot, which somehow managed to encompass the death scenes of every ghost in the room, with the exception of the Bloody Baron, whose life, death and bloodstained appearance were still a mystery to all. The play received a marvelous round of applause, and the ghosts celebrated with a circuit of the hall, mischievously chilling the younger pupils by flying through them.

Dumbledore stood at the end of the play, clapping loudly, and thanked the playwrights and actors. He then announced that the staff had a special surprise for the students. "We have decided to break with tradition this year (after all, what are traditions for, if not for breaking?), and end the Halloween festivities with a dance!"

At that, a door at the side of the hall opened and a group of - well, Hermione assumed they must be musicians - entered. They appeared to have been human at some point in their past, but were now skeletons with flesh hanging loosely from them. It was not a pleasant sight. Dumbledore's cheerful "I would like to introduce our band for this evening - 'Dead, Not Buried', " was met with dubious applause, but when they started to play, everyone warmed to them fairly quickly. Their music more than made up for their strange appearance.

Everyone seemed to think the dance was a wonderful idea - especially the fact that it was a surprise - it saved everyone the problem of having to have a partner for the evening, much to Harry and Ron's clear relief. As the tables magically moved to the sides of the room, Hermione glanced up at the staff. Snape was engaged in conversation with Professor Flitwick, and she couldn't see his face clearly. She smiled to herself, doubting that he would appreciate this change in the entertainment - he wasn't exactly the dancing type!

It was Dumbledore who opened the dancing, with Professor McGonagall, but after a little while, the students joined in and the Great Hall was filled with swirling couples. Ron and Harry swept off to find partners, and Hermione was approached, a little nervously, by Neville.

Thankfully, his dancing had improved somewhat since the fourth-year's Yule Ball, and he didn't tread on her feet more than half a dozen times. Hermione looked around as they danced. Harry and Ginny looked like a very sweet couple, and seemed to be dancing together rather closely, while Ron was being steered round the dance floor by Parvati Patil. She again looked towards Severus, but was surprised not to be able to see him at the edges of the hall. She eventually found him in the one place she didn't expect - on the dance floor with Professor Sprout.

Other people were obviously surprised by this as well, and both Ron and Harry commented on it between dances. "At least he's not smiling," muttered Ron. "Then I really would be worried!"

Hermione was asked to dance by a lot of boys that night, and was never without a partner. Alistair Baddock asked her to dance twice, which she accepted, both braving the sneers from Draco Malfoy and his cronies. Alistair was a quietly spoken Slytherin, and rather shy - both unusual characteristics for that house - and she enjoyed dancing with him. She also danced with Harry and Ron, although Harry seemed in rather a hurry to get back to Ginny.

With a smile, Hermione noticed that some of the staff were happy to dance with the students. Professor Sprout was dancing with a tall fifth-year Hufflepuff, and Madam Hooch asked both Ron and Harry during the evening. By far the most amusing couple of the evening was McGonagall and Dennis Creevey, although Hermione thought that she and Hagrid probably looked just as funny. The unexpected turn of events was very pleasing to Hermione, as it meant that she would be able to dance with Severus, and judging from his expression as he glanced at her while dancing past with Professor McGonagall, he was thinking the same thing.

It seemed that he wanted to tease her first, though. She had sat down for a few minutes, to catch her breath after a dance with Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, and was chatting happily with Ginny about the merits of Harry's dancing, when the tall figure of the Potions Master loomed over them. He was carefully keeping his face expressionless as he towered over the two sitting girls. He nodded and spoke. "Would you care to dance, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny managed to hide her nervousness very well, thought Hermione, as she stammered a quiet, "Thank you, Professor Snape," and he led her out to the floor. Laughing inwardly, Hermione approached Professor Flitwick, and the two couples were soon dancing next to each other in the middle of the hall.

The tap on her shoulder was what she had been waiting for, and she turned to face the man she loved. "Miss Granger, would you like to dance?"

She smiled, carefully avoiding letting her face give too much away. "I would love to, Professor."

It was exquisite torment. To be so close, but not be able to hold him next to her made her ache. And yet, there was something exciting about it too - to feel his presence, but know that no-one else could know. Why am I torturing myself like this, she wondered? They talked quietly as they danced, careful not to look like they were enjoying the dance too much. All reserve and civility, as far as anyone else was concerned - the passion in Severus' eyes was for her alone to see.

"You look beautiful," he told her softly. "I couldn't resist wanting to dance with you."

She squeezed his hand and told him how surprised everyone, including herself, was to see him dancing so much.

"Well," he replied, "I could hardly ask only you. I had to dance with other people or it would look suspicious."

This had been her thought, exactly. "I know," she told him. "That's partly why I wanted to dance with so many people. I've even been dancing with one of the dreaded Slytherins."

"Twice," he muttered. Hermione might have worried at the sharpness of his voice, but she knew it well enough now to recognize the teasing in his tone. "Baddock! I never did like that boy!" His hand was on her waist and she felt his fingers surreptitiously caressing her as he changed the subject. "It's all I can manage not to pull you close and kiss you right now."

A tantalizing thought came to her. "Well, we were wondering whether we should let people know about us," she said. "That would certainly be a dramatic way to do it!"

There was a smile at the corners of his lips. "I'm not sure that high drama would be the ideal way to go about that, but I can definitely see the appeal!"

Tempting though the thought was, they simply danced. Hermione wanted very much to go to his room that night, but the castle would be alive much later than usual, and it would be difficult to get there without being seen. As the music died, she said quickly, "I'll come down to the dungeon tomorrow night after dinner. I need to work on my project, but later - how about another dance?"

He nodded politely to her, as he had with his other partners. "Until tomorrow, Ms. Granger."


	19. In the Dungeon

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 19 - In the Dungeon**

It was the night after Halloween and, as planned, Harry and Ron were continuing their search for the mysterious passage to the lake. They had left the common room a little after ten o'clock, while there were still people sitting around the fire, but they had not wanted to leave it too late. They needed time for their search. Slipping into an empty classroom as soon as they were outside the Gryffindor tower, they wrapped Harry's invisibility cloak about them and set off for the dungeon.

The deepest level of the dungeon (that they were aware of - there were many areas they had never explored) was cold and dank, and their footsteps echoed around the empty chambers. Starting from the place where, four years earlier, the three friends had been the only living guests at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party, they had already begun systematically to explore the doors and passageways leading outwards.

Rather - as systematically as was possible. The passages were extremely confusing, and they began to look the same in the dark. They would try a passageway, only to find that they had already been there, or think that they recognized a place, but then find it turning into a dead end that they were sure shouldn't be there.

"Maybe the rooms down here move around, like they do upstairs," suggested Ron. "Did we try this way, already?"

They were not exactly sure what they were looking for. From past experience, the entrance to a tunnel could be anywhere - behind a picture, part of a statue (not that there were many of either of these down there), even part of a seemingly blank wall. However, they were not completely in the dark, so to speak, as they did have vague hints from their research. The entrance would almost certainly have some clue with it that would connect it to the lake - a carving or symbol indicating the lake or the merpeople, or maybe the giant squid. All they had to do was find it. ("Oh, is that all?" Ron had asked, earlier.)

They had not been searching for long, when they found themselves wondering whether they had seen this section of the passages before. There was a tall suit of armor standing in deep shadows, which Ron was sure they had already passed. They retraced their steps, but the way back did not seem familiar.

"Let's try this way," said Harry, leading Ron down a side passage that he seemed to remember. It was not one they had been down before, though, which they realized as they came into a wider passage with pictures down one side. Harry held up his wand, so that the glow from its tip would light the pictures more clearly. They were not pleasant scenes. A tall woman with an unnaturally long neck stared down at them from the first frame. A limp chicken hung from her hand, and she was plucking it with a vengeance. Further down the passage, a fat boy of around ten or twelve years old (looking surprisingly like Dudley) was jeeringly forcing his terrified younger sister into a closet. None of the pictures showed welcoming places or friendly faces, but the one that shocked them most was the one at the end of the corridor, just before a large wooden door.

It was a portrait of a well-dressed man, sitting comfortably in a large armchair in an elaborately furnished room. A warm red glow from the fire lit his face, and two black dogs slept at his feet. It would have been a pleasant scene, if not for the fact that the face staring out at them was that of the living and unbloodied, but otherwise perfectly recognizable Bloody Baron.

Ron clutched at Harry's arm. "Let's get out of here," he whispered. Harry agreed, but before either of them could turn around, the ghost of the man in the picture emerged silently from behind the door in front of them. They had removed the invisibility cloak as soon as they had got down to this level of the dungeon, thinking that there was no-one to see them anyway, so the ghost spotted them immediately. For a few terrible seconds, none of them moved, then Harry, finally coming to his senses, grabbed Ron's arm and they fled. They had always assumed that the ghosts that haunted Hogwarts were relatively harmless - Dumbledore would surely not put the students in danger - but they had no intention of putting this assumption to the test when faced with the Slytherin Ghost in the castle's deepest dungeons.

With no idea where they were going, they ran, not caring whether the ghost was behind them or not. They twisted and turned, up and down passages, through doorways, across halls, until, finally they reached something that they recognized. It was the Deathday party hall. They knew the way from here, and dashed across it, heading for the main castle with relief. It was only when they got close to the more inhabited parts of the dungeon, near to the Slytherin house, that they stopped to get their breath.

"I think we should call it a night," gasped Harry, and Ron nodded wholeheartedly. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak from under his robes and they slipped it around them before moving on.

As they reached the bottom of the steps, however, they encountered further problems. Footsteps were coming down them, and they could hear the unmistakable voice of Filch, muttering under his breath about students who showed no consideration for others. Silently, they backed away, to give him space to pass before continuing back to Gryffindor, but he continued heading towards them. They had to back further, and found themselves in the corridor leading to the Potions classroom. The door was open slightly, and there was light showing round it. Filch was still approaching and, under cover of the cloak, Harry and Ron slipped through the crack and into the classroom.

Hermione was standing with her back to them, poring studiously over her work, but she appeared to be alone. Not wanting Filch to hear them, they waited in silence, wondering if the caretaker was still heading their way, but he turned into another passage before reaching the door. Ron and Harry breathed a sigh of relief and turned towards Hermione. It was surprising that she was still working at this time of night. It was after eleven by now. Harry was about to speak, but Ron nudged him silent. There was another figure moving in the passageway outside. Filch? No - it was Snape. If he found them here, especially after their previous late night visit to the dungeon, they would have another detention to look forward to, and likely something far worse, knowing Snape.

For a moment, Harry considered trying to slip through the doorway before the Potions Master reached it, but there wasn't time. Carefully avoiding any sound, he backed Ron away from the doorway. They would just have to wait for him to pass through, then slip out behind him.

They quickly realized that this would not work. Snape's movements were silent as he stepped through the door, and he stopped when he saw Hermione. She had not heard him, and he stood watching her from the doorway. What was he up to, wondered Harry? Without a sound, Snape moved fully into the classroom and closed the door behind him. Hermione was still completely engrossed in her work, but Harry felt a jolt of shock as he watched the teacher actually lock the door. He held his breath and noticed that Ron, beside him, was doing the same. Both watched tensely as Snape leaned back against the doorway, never taking his eyes off Hermione, and with his head tilted slightly to the side, as though studying her. Harry was beginning to feel sick as he watched a cruel smile curl around Snape's lips.

Stealthily, the teacher moved towards her, and Harry took a step forward, too. He was still covered by the cloak, but only just, and he no longer cared. He did not like the look on Snape's face one little bit. One step closer, Snape, he thought, watching the man's smile grow more malicious. Hermione was reaching for a bottle next to the cauldron, and remained oblivious to the danger behind her.

Harry seemed to see the next few moments in slow motion, as he saw Snape close the distance between himself and Hermione. Without warning, he grabbed her from behind and spun her around. She let out a sharp gasp of surprise as his lips closed on hers, and he pulled her roughly to him.

In a flash, Harry threw off the invisibility cloak and hurled himself at the teacher.

"Get away from her, Snape," he screamed, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice. Grabbing the man roughly by the shoulders, he dragged him off his prey and threw him against the ingredients cabinet. Snape was shocked and winded, and in the moment it took him to recover, Harry was upon him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he heard Hermione's shouting voice, but her words did not register. His swinging fist caught Snape's face with a thud, and there was a loud crack as the man's head hit the cabinet. He was about to take another swing, but Snape did not give him the chance. Leaping forward, he blocked the punch and grabbed Harry's arm in a powerful grip, twisting the wrist until Harry thought it would break.

Something inside Harry was driving him onward. This hated teacher, who had done everything he could to make his life hell for the past five years, had now gone one step too far in daring to force himself on Hermione. Ignoring the pain in his wrist, he swung the other fist at Snape's detested face. An instant later, a pain exploded in Harry's eye, as he felt the man's arm across his face. He spun around, taking both of them off balance, and careening into the cabinet, knocking it sideways. It balanced precariously for a moment, then smashed down with a crash. Snape's weight was on top of him as they landed, and he was pinned, unable to move, with the enraged face of his enemy snarling down at him.

It was only then that Harry really seemed to hear Hermione's voice. "Harry! Severus! Stop it!" Glancing for a moment past Snape's angry face, he saw that she had blocked Ron's path as he had tried to jump into the fight, grabbing his arms to hold him back. Now she was running forward to the pair on the floor and crouching next to them, placing a hand on the chest of each, as though holding them apart.

Snape's weight was lifted from him, and Hermione and Ron were helping Harry to his feet.

"Harry, are you alright?" she was asking him, reaching up to his eye, which was burning with pain. Nodding numbly, he placed a hand on Ron's shoulder to steady himself. Ron was staring in disbelief at Hermione, and Harry followed his gaze. Hermione had rushed to Snape and was reaching up to touch his face.

He watched as her fingers pushed his long black hair out of his face. "You don't need to feel sorry for him, Hermione, after what he - - - " His voice trailed off as the truth suddenly hit him, far harder than Snape had done.

She had her arms around him, and was reaching up to kiss his cheek. "Severus," she was whispering, "you're hurt." There was pain in her voice, and she was gazing at him with something so tender in her eyes.

Harry felt his knees begin to crumple, and he steadied himself on the edge of a desk. How could this be happening? This simply couldn't be real. The 'boyfriend' that Hermione Granger had been sneaking off to see for the past month was Professor Snape!


	20. Broken Glass

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 20 - Broken Glass**

Hermione had so many emotions going through her that she barely knew what to think or say. The people in this room with her were three of the most important people in her life. Apart from her parents, there was no-one that she could love more. And yet, everything was in such a mess for all of them. Severus was not badly hurt, but there was blood running from his nose, and she was worried about the way his head had hit the cabinet. His breathing beside her was heavy, as he glared at Harry, controlling himself only for her benefit. Harry's eye was swollen and bloody, and would probably turn black very quickly.

But the worst injuries were those done to both Ron and Harry by finding out this way. Both looked horrified at what they had seen, and were staring, open-mouthed as she turned to face them.

"Hermione," it was Ron who was the first to confront her about the truth, "is this who you've been seeing?" The hurt and confusion in his eyes were painful to her.

She took a deep breath. "Yes. We've been seeing each other for about a month." Saying it quickly didn't make it any easier.

"And you didn't tell us?" Harry had been staring at the floor, but the anger in his voice was matched by that in his eyes as he suddenly looked up at her.

The reaction was to be expected, she supposed, but it hurt, nonetheless. "I hated not telling you," she whispered, feeling tears begin to sting the back of her eyes.

Ron was staring at Snape, as though the very sight of him made him sick. "We were worried about you," he said, speaking to Hermione, but his gaze not leaving the teacher. "We knew you were up to something, but... "

Harry interrupted him "... but we had no idea about how much you were lying to us!" he snapped, bitterly. He was still leaning on the edge of the desk, mirroring Snape's posture, as though they were facing each other off in a challenge. And so they still were - if not in physical combat. Hermione could see the white of his knuckles as he gripped the desk, and, nervously, she noted the same thing in the man beside her. The air was thick with tension, and she knew that she had to get the three of them apart before things got worse. Part of her told herself that they needed to talk about what had happened and clear the air a little, but what good was that if they ended up fighting again?

She moved between Severus and Harry, trying, somehow, to dampen the explosive reaction between them. Harry scowled as she stepped towards him, but she ignored it. "We should go to the infirmary," she said firmly. "Your eye needs treatment." Harry showed no inclination to move. She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled it away.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

Again, the sting of tears, but she held them back. "Harry," she pleaded, but faltered, not knowing what else to say.

Ron finally dragged his gaze away from Snape to help her. "Yeah, Harry," he muttered. "Let's go."

Harry slowly stood, and for a moment, Hermione thought he was going to lunge for Severus again. The hatred in his expression was clear as he stared angrily at him. Snape's unblinking eyes returned the emotion, and the lock was only broken when Hermione once again stepped between them.

Steering Harry out of the door, with Ron, Hermione turned back to Snape and gave him a small smile. "I'll be back soon," she mouthed silently. He gave her a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement, but his focus was still on Harry as he was ushered out of the room.

Hermione paused in the doorway, looking back at him. The anger boiling inside him was frightening, and the fact that he had not said a word since the fight scared her, but she knew she could not leave Harry for the moment. She would hurry back.

Snape tried to calm himself as Hermione's hand reached up to touch his face, brushing the hair out of his eyes. The blow to his head on the cabinet had been quite something - more than he would have thought Potter capable of.

He felt a smug satisfaction as Potter faltered in his words to Hermione. The two boys were staring at them, dumfounded, as Hermione reached up to kiss his cheek. "Severus, you're hurt." Her voice was full of concern and, in spite of everything that was going on, he felt a brief flutter in his chest at seeing the love in her eyes.

But the fury inside him was forcing all other emotions out of his mind. He forced it under control and stared, unblinking, at Potter.

They were talking - Hermione, Potter and Weasley - but he was not listening to the words. Dimly, he was aware of the hatred focused on him by the two boys, and then of Hermione's voice, urging them to the infirmary. Yes - that was the best thing - get them out of here!

Hermione was leaving, and his stomach twisted as he saw her go, but just this once, his yearning for her was tempered with relief. The anger was on the point of surfacing, and he did not want her anywhere near him. She had seen enough of the darker side of him. He couldn't make her deal with that - especially when his anger was directed against the two people whom he knew she loved so dearly.

They were gone. He was alone.

For a full ten minutes, he did not move. The silence around him seemed to freeze his being, and he could neither think nor feel anything.

When he finally moved, his actions surprised even himself. In a sudden burst of rage, he grasped the nearest thing to hand - a large bottle from the floor, which had somehow survived the destruction of the potions cabinet - and spun around, hurling it at the far wall of the classroom.

It was an indescribable feeling - the hatred and rage burning him, with no power to control them. And yet, the image that he saw in his mind was not that of Potter's face, as he would have expected, but of himself and Hermione. It was that terrible night, and he was staring down into her terrified and tear stained face - his blissful pleasure turning to loathing of himself as he realized what he had done to her.

That was where his rage lay - at the fact that, although Potter had misunderstood the situation, when he had grabbed Hermione in lustful play, the boy's anger was totally justified. Not for what he had done tonight, but what did that matter. He deserved what had happened, and far more. Perhaps he should not have defended himself, and let himself take a beating from the boy.

But still - he couldn't help but despise him. Everything about him reminded him of the boy's father. As though emphasizing this, his gaze fell on the hazy shape of the invisibility cloak, still on the floor where it had been cast aside. A fresh wave of anger swelled in him, and he reached for another unbroken bottle, hurling it with all his strength in the direction that the three students had just left.

It hit the stone a little above the doorway, and Albus Dumbledore calmly stepped into the classroom, out of the way of the flying shards of glass and dripping liquid.


	21. Anger

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 21 - Anger**

The walk from the dungeon to the hospital wing seemed longer than it ever had done before, as Hermione hurried to keep pace with Ron and Harry.

None of them said anything until they were more than half way there, but suddenly Ron stopped and rounded on her, angrily.

"How could you do this, Hermione?" he demanded. "It's Snape, of all people - Snape!"

She stopped and turned on him. "It wasn't exactly planned, Ron!" she fumed. "I didn't just wake up one morning and think 'Maybe I should start a relationship with Snape'!"

"But... how could you not tell us?" his face was beginning to match the colour of his flaming hair. "I thought we told each other everything!"

Her anger crumpled at his words. He was absolutely right, and it hurt. "I hated not telling you," she said, desperately hoping that they would find a way to understand, "but I didn't want to... complicate things... until I knew how I felt."

Harry was a few paces ahead of them, but he spun round at her words, and the fury in his eyes was clear. "And how do you feel?" he demanded.

"I love Severus," she said, without needing to think about it. She knew that maybe it was not the best time to tell them this, but she couldn't hide it from them - not now. "I don't know why, but I love him."

They stared.

"But he's... he's a teacher," Ron spluttered. "And he's Snape! You've always hated him just the same way we do. Or have you been lying about this for longer than we thought?"

Tears finally began to pour down Hermione's cheeks. "I did hate him, I think," she began, trying to explain it to herself as much as to them, "but I've always - respected him, too!" She wasn't sure if she was making any sense to them but she continued anyway. "There's something about him that I can understand and relate to. And he seems to understand me! We can talk for hours about magic and potions and - anything."

"Are you sleeping with him?" Harry's question shocked her in its forthrightness, but she couldn't bring herself to match it.

"That's my business," she said softly.

He gazed at her, levelly, for a long moment, then turned and continued towards the hospital wing.

If there was one person at Hogwarts whom students could trust not to ask awkward questions, it was Madam Pomfrey. There were few students in the school who had not made a mess of an 'experimental' spell or potion at some point or other, and Madam Pomfrey knew that requiring an explanation would make them more likely to try to fix things themselves. Hermione was not in the least surprised, therefore, when Harry's simple "I had an accident" was accepted with no hint of either belief or disbelief.

Hermione allowed herself a moment of relief at Harry's weak explanation. She had half expected him to tell the matron everything. Ron's look told her that he had been thinking the same thing. Maybe she - or rather, Severus - would not have been so lucky if it had been the other boy with the injuries.

Forcing her attention back to Harry, she listened to Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis.

"The wrist isn't fractured," she was saying, almost to herself, "but there's some nasty bruising there. The same for your knuckles." She released Harry's arm and turned her attention to his face. "Now let me take a look at that eye!"

Harry winced as he turned his face towards her so she could see him clearly in the light. His eye was now almost closed with the swelling. A crust of blood had formed just under it, where the skin had broken, and the whole area was darkly bruised.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Well, I can clean up the wrist and the blood, but the best thing for the eye is to leave it to sort itself out." She turned towards her office, still speaking. "A cold press will have the swelling down in no time, and the bruising will heal quickly."

She returned quickly with a cold pack, which Harry pressed to his eye, then she quickly fixed up his other injuries with a few well-practiced flicks of her wand. He flexed his wrist and fingers. The bruising had gone, and he seemed to feel nothing, and the cut from his face disappeared completely. Only his bruised and swollen eye showed any sign of the fight, unless she counted the scowl on his face.

Madam Pomfrey insisted that Harry wait in the hospital wing for at least half an hour, so she could check how the swelling was doing, and, as the matron disappeared into her office, closing the door behind her, Hermione braced herself for the new barrage of anger that she knew would be directed her way.

"How could you lie to us, Hermione?" It was Ron that started the new onslaught, turning to her as soon as the witch was out of the room. "After all we've been through!"

Hermione was about to respond angrily, but she suddenly felt only pain. It was not Ron's fault that he hated Severus - even she had to admit that he didn't go out of his way to be liked, particularly by Gryffindors, and particularly by her two closest friends. How else had she expected them to react? "I knew you wouldn't understand," she said. "I didn't want to lie, but I just couldn't tell you the truth - not at first."

She met his eyes and held them, but could have no effect on his anger. "So when were you planning on telling us?" he challenged. "Next year, some time? Or maybe when we graduate?"

She was about to answer, but Harry interrupted. "If anyone finds out, you'll be expelled, and Snape'll be fired," he stated. Hermione didn't want to think about either of those possibilities. He continued, hotly. "What if Dumbledore catches you? Or you get pregnant? Or the rest of the school finds out?

Tears were once again running down her face. "I don't know," she cried "I told you we didn't plan any of this - it just... happened."

They said nothing, and she found this to be almost as bad as the angry shouting.

She took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm down. There was no point in trying to talk to them about this now. It was late, and they were all overwrought. "Look," she said as steadily as she could, "let's talk about this tomorrow, or rather - later today," she added, noticing that the time had now passed midnight. "It's Saturday. We might have all calmed down a little after some sleep."

It sounded weak, but there was nothing else she could say. Nothing was going to make them forgive her, the way they were feeling now, so it was better to give them some space. She headed for the door, but as she reached it, she turned. "I know that you are both angry with me," she said, trying to keep her voice calm, "but I just wanted to say thanks, for what you both did. It means a lot to me." They said nothing, and she turned and left.

Snape froze as he saw Dumbledore stepping quietly into the classroom, then he turned and faced away, not wanting to look at him, or be seen. The headmaster's voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "Well, Severus, it seems that things are rather a mess." No reply seemed to be appropriate, so the words were met with silence, and he carried on. "I saw Mr. Potter on his way to see Poppy. I had a suspicion - now unhappily confirmed - that you might have injuries to match his."

The presence of the older wizard seemed to be having a calming effect on Snape. There was no loner any doubt that Dumbledore knew about Hermione and himself, and the knowledge was almost soothing. Whatever the outcome of this would be, there was now no avoiding it - no choice but to accept the consequences of what had been going on.

Anger seemed to be slowly draining from him, and he felt empty without it, as though it had been the only thing keeping him on his feet. Silently, he moved to his desk and sat behind it, before looking up at the headmaster.

He kept his eyes and voice impassive. "What can I say, Albus?" he asked flatly.

Dumbledore crossed the room to sit opposite him. "Tell me what happened," he said simply.

Snape sighed, wondering how far back to go, but he eventually settled on just the events of the night. "I came in here while Hermione was working. She didn't hear me, so I crept up behind her. Potter and Weasley were here under James' cloak... and Potter jumped me. He thought I was... "

"I see." Dumbledore thought quietly for a moment before continuing. "Until Halloween, I suspected this, but I wasn't certain. I thought maybe it was one of the boys in Slytherin, and that you were covering for them. Then I saw you dance together."

This was surprising. He had thought that their dance had been beyond suspicion. As though reading his mind, Dumbledore said quickly, "I don't think anyone else could see it, but I know your face, Severus. I've never seen you like this, before, but I knew from your eyes."

"I'm in love with her, Albus." The words came out quickly and unexpectedly, but Snape was glad. It was the truth, and he wanted to be able to say so. "I'm in love with her."

Again, the pause, and then, "And Miss Granger? Does she feel the same way about you?"

The answer came without hesitation or doubt, "Yes, she does."

Dumbledore stood and surveyed the room. The ingredients cabinet, usually stocked so carefully and neatly by the fastidious professor, lay on its side. The frame was cracked and warped, and the contents smashed on the stone floor. The broken shards of glass at the back of the room, and the thick liquid running down the wall, showed evidence that the bottle that had narrowly missed his head was not the first to have been thrown.

Snape returned the gaze unemotionally, as the headmaster turned to study his face, then turned away again, shaking his head. The headmaster began to pace, and the Potions Master waited in silence. "You've put me in a very awkward position, Severus," he said finally. "I should fire you. I have no doubt about that."

"Then fire me," the voice was cold. "I wouldn't want to feel that I was here because of loyalty or friendship. You wouldn't be being fair on yourself, to do that."

Hearing anger in Dumbledore's voice was unexpected, but there was definitely a hint of it as he spoke, "That's not it," he said quickly. "If this were anyone but Hermione Granger, the decision would have been made, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

This was not what Snape had been expecting. He listened as Dumbledore continued.

"Miss Granger is - different from the other students. She has a level of maturity that I don't recall seeing in one so young, for many years, and her magic could challenge many fully trained witches and wizards. Any other girl, and I might have assumed a childish crush on a teacher, or a susceptible mind, easily led. But Miss Granger knows her own mind and would not be swayed unless her feelings were real, and I have to accept that. With the respect that I have for her, I would be doing her a great injustice to presume anything else." He stopped pacing, and turned to the man behind the desk. The anger was muted, but unmistakable now. "But that doesn't mean that I have to like it, Severus! You should have controlled yourself. You both should!"

Snape had no idea whether the headmaster knew how their relationship had started, but whether he knew or not, he was right about the control. But not Hermione's. He was the only one who had behaved badly in any way, and none of the blame should be on her. "Hermione has done nothing wrong," he said, his voice dangerously soft.

Dumbledore studied his face closely, then, "As you wish."

The sound of the door creaking open in the silence seemed to break the tension.

"Severus - ," Hermione stopped as she saw Dumbledore turning towards her. She was about to make an excuse, but saw her lover's hand reach out to her, and she moved across the room to take it. Clearly, the headmaster knew, and there was no need for pretense.

"Professor Snape - Severus - and I were just having a chat, Miss Granger," his voice was kind and soft, although she had the distinct impression that their 'chat' had been far from it. "I understand that you are in love!"

This statement came as quite a surprise to her, coming from Dumbledore - how much detail had this chat gone into, exactly, she wondered - but she smiled at it. Gripping Severus' hand as she reached his desk, she brought it up to her lips and kissed the knuckles. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore. Very much."

He seemed resigned to this, but clearly had to say his piece. "I will be honest with you, Miss Granger - if you were any other student, I would have serious concerns about this." His eyes were firmly fixed on hers. "As I told you before, I cannot approve, but," he sighed, "I will not interfere."

He gazed at the pair of them for a moment longer, then turned towards the door. Before leaving, he stopped. "I must warn you both that if this becomes public knowledge, I may have no choice but to change my position on this subject," he said softly. "I bid you both goodnight," and he was gone.

Severus' head slumped forward as he sat behind his desk. Hermione reached out to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and drew his trembling body against her chest.


	22. In the Warmth of the Fire

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 22 - In the Warmth of the Fire**

Hermione half smiled to herself as she cradled Severus in her arms. She still stood next to his chair, her chin resting on the top of the head that was bent to lean against her. It should have seemed strange to her, she thought, that she was in the role of comforter and protector, but, somehow, it seemed natural. For all his strength and his turbulent past, there was vulnerability about him when he was forced to confront his emotions, instead of hiding them behind a stone façade.

She ran her fingers through his long hair, stroking his head, but stopped as she felt the dried blood matting in his hair. Pushing him gently away from her, she moved to examine the damage more closely.

"This is a deep cut, Severus," she told him softly. "It should be looked after." He said nothing, and she moved round to look at his face. There was still a little blood where it had run from his nose, and the area under his left eye was darkening. "We should get you to Madam Pomfrey - or ask her to come here." She added the latter suggestion, realizing that Harry and Ron may still be in the hospital wing.

Snape was not impressed by this idea, and his impatience showed in his voice. "Poppy Pomfrey is discreet, Hermione, not stupid." He was right, of course, although she was surprised at how long it seemed since she had heard that tone from him. He continued, "I'll just have to deal with this myself."

But healing his own injuries was not easy. In the end, Hermione carried out the appropriate spells, guided by the patient, finding out about yet another facet of the man's knowledge. The result would not be perfect - Hermione had little practical experience with this, usually relying on the school's matron - but it was enough to prevent permanent damage to his nose, and to remove most of the bruising and pain.

As he felt the back of his head to be sure the cut was sealed, she brought up the subject of Dumbledore, asking about the conversation before she had arrived. He grimaced as he told her of the headmaster's anger, and his bland statement that if it had been anyone other than Hermione, he would have been fired, regardless of Dumbledore's friendship towards him. That friendship had clearly reached its limit and come close to breaking.

"He was serious, you know," he frowned gravely, "about not letting other people find out. Whatever else he cares about in this world, Hogwarts and its students come first. As it should be."

Hermione stretched her arms about him, concerned at the anxiety and strain shown in his every movement and word. "Then we'll just have to be careful," she said. "A lot more careful than we've been so far!"

Speaking of being careful, there was another matter that Hermione had to bring up. But not here in the classroom. She wanted to get out of there, and leave the shattered remains of the room to be dealt with in the morning. It wasn't doing his mood any good to be here. Locking the door to prevent anyone else from discovering the destruction, they headed for his chambers.

Resting her head against his chest as they sat by the fire, Hermione could feel that he was still tense and restless, but this was not something that should wait any longer. She nervously broached the subject. "Severus, there's something that Harry mentioned earlier... " she hesitated, "... he asked what would happen if I got pregnant. We've never talked about it." It was a subject that Hermione had been aware of, but had pushed to the back of her mind. She had only consciously thought of it once before, when she had first visited his rooms. There was something that had made her not want to think about it - not because the idea was too terrible to contemplate, but because it wasn't. The way she felt about Severus had made it simply... not matter. Somehow - it was one subject that had produced an uncharacteristic recklessness in her that she couldn't explain. It was only Harry's question that had forced her to consider it in real terms. What would happen if she found herself carrying Severus' child, she wondered?

Severus' answer was unexpected. "It can't happen." It seemed that when the school had been built, Salazar Slytherin had felt that his own house's students could not be trusted to keep their hormones under control. He had placed a spell on the dungeons to ensure that children could only be conceived if both partners wanted it. Many years later, finding that Slytherins were not the only students with ideas on experimentation outside the field of magic, the spell had been extended to cover the entire school. "Finally," Severus told her, "they realized that the grounds had a few romantic spots, and the spell was extended to the whole of the grounds - after one or two unfortunate incidents!"

Hermione gave a wry smile. "I suppose you don't want to encourage the students by telling them!"

But Severus' thoughts seemed to be occupied with something else. "So, what else did Potter and Weasley have to say?" he asked her.

She sighed. From the feeling of tension in him, she didn't think that this was the best time to discuss this, but there was no point in avoiding it. His face became more taut as she repeated their words about her lies to them, and told him about their anger and feelings of betrayal. He stood, and began to pace the room, listening to her description of their conversation. The thing that worried her most was the way that his hostility seemed to be directed, not at the fact that her friends were angry with her, but at the mere mention of Harry's name.

"What was he doing there, anyway?" he demanded, surprising her with the force behind his words.

She had not had chance to ask them this, and she was as much in the dark as he. "I don't know, Severus," she told him.

"Sneaking around in the middle of the night under that infernal invisibility cloak!" His voice was bitter. "The two of them should just learn to mind their own damned business!"

Resolutely, she stood up. She had to stop this. Whatever was going on with his emotions, she couldn't deal with it right now, and neither, from the looks of things, could he. She had seen the mess in the classroom, knowing that not all of it had been caused during the fight. Something told her that Dumbledore had not been the one throwing bottles!

He was still pacing, and she moved to intercept him, standing firmly in his path. "Severus!" she kept her voice strong, but with no trace of reproach. This was not a time for conflict between them. "Calm down!" He stopped, and looked at her, surprised, but not angry, at her commanding approach. She continued. "Take a deep breath." He did so, and gave her a half smile, as she watched him force his emotions into check. But that was only the first step. Calming him completely was going to take more than a few deep breaths.

Gently, she led him by the hand to the fire, then moved to stand behind him.

The turmoil inside him was abating a little, as he faced the fire, gazing into the flames, but he could still feel every part of himself held tense and taut. What was wrong with him, he wondered. He should have more control over himself than this, and he had no right to subject Hermione to his rage. She touched his back and he took another deep breath, trying to quiet himself. Her hands slid up to his shoulders and then down the length of his back. He flexed his body in an attempt to release the tension that was making his muscles ache.

"Kneel down," she said softly, and he found himself obeying her instructions. He was still facing the fire and she remained behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders and pressing her warm body against his back. It was a long time before he found himself able to relax at all, even under Hermione's touch, but she was unrelenting in her handling of him.

Firmly, her hands kneaded his muscles, her fingers finding the knots in them and gradually working them through. He was so tense that the persistent fingers were almost painful for him, but he could feel himself beginning to relax under her touch. For a long time, she worked, until, eventually, his shoulders lowered slightly, then a little more, as his strain subsided.

Her fingers moved to the back of his neck, and he hung his head forward, allowing himself to become totally immersed in what she was doing. Her touch worked down from the hollow at the base of his skull downwards, then out to the sides of his neck, in smooth, circling motions. As he was totally consumed by the touch, mind and body became one, and his thoughts seemed to melt away with the tension in his body. His mind cleared of all other thoughts and he felt only those soothing hands.

She reached round to the clasp of his robes and slid them from his shoulders. The touch was more intimate through the thin fabric of his loose black shirt, and he felt himself unwind another turn. His anger and hatred were dimming, then forgotten, and there was only her touch - smoothing the knots from his muscles as her fingers continued in their spirals.

He made no attempt either to help or resist as she slowly removed his shirt and continued the massage on his bare shoulders. She was in control now, and he was content simply to be led wherever she wanted to take him. The warmth of skin on skin flowed deep into his sinews and he let out a long breath.

Her softly breathed instruction to lie down was followed slowly, but without question, and her hands continued their work on his whole back. It felt like hours that she worked on him, and it felt so good! The long strokes went from his neck down to his waist, and from shoulders to fingertips, finding every last trace of tension, and he released a barely audible moan of contentment.

It felt as though he were floating. He couldn't ever remember experiencing quite such a sensation before, and he felt a lightness and suppleness that he could hardly believe. He could barely feel it as she slipped the rest of his clothes from him, and was only vaguely aware when her hands left him for a moment as she slid out of her own robes.

He felt the weight of her small body on his back as she stretched herself on top of him. He had been too relaxed, during the massage, to think of anything but those tender hands, but as her body wriggled on top of his, and her lips nibbled teasingly at his ear, he felt a different kind of tension begin to arise. She rolled off his back and onto the thick rug next to him, and he moved to cover her body with his own. She was ready for him as he slid himself into her warm wetness, kissing her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, as he found a slow rhythm. Their bodies moved perfectly together as their sighs mingled and joined. He held himself back, wanting to prolong the experience for both of them. The look in her eyes told him how much she loved him and wanted him - emotions that he had never been aware of evoking in another, until Hermione. He had done nothing to deserve them, but here were peace and love, as he could never have imagined.

He knew her body's responses well, and brought them both to a climax together. The perfect bliss as he gave a final, releasing thrust into her, seemed to freeze time as they lay holding each other, still joined, in front of the flickering fire.

The worries and anger and pain of the day were gone and forgotten. Everything he wanted and loved - everything that mattered to him - lay in his arms. Whatever it took to keep her, he would do it. He knew, without doubt, that he could never bear to spend another day of his life without her close.


	23. The Rose

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 23 – The Rose**

It took several weeks for things to settle a little between Hermione, Ron and Harry. The first week was particularly tough, with barely a word spoken, but Hermione was relieved when, seeing her appear in the common room one morning of the second weekend, they offered her a quiet "Breakfast?" and the three of them headed for the Great Hall together. Things were not as they had been before, of course, but at least they were talking again. Harry and Ron seemed to understand how bad things would be for Hermione if anyone else knew about the relationship, and they gave their word that they would say nothing. The fact that public knowledge would hurt Hermione as well as Snape seemed to disappoint Ron tremendously, as it meant that at could not be used against the Potions Master, but he reluctantly accepted this, and agreed not to cause problems.

The first Potions Lesson, only three days after the fight, began with a tense moment when the looks between students and teacher as Ron and Harry entered the room had been full of hatred. Hermione had held her breath for an anxious moment, as the three of them paused, before the two boys took their seats.

During the lesson, Snape responded calmly to Malfoy's question about his bruised face, explaining that he had had an accident during the weekend, but not going into details. He used the opportunity, though, to remark on Harry's injuries. "I see that Mr. Potter also has some scars from the weekend," he mocked. "Brawling, Potter?" Harry glared but said nothing, and Snape turned away with a sneer. "You really should learn to control that temper."

Hermione wasn't sure that baiting Harry was the wisest thing to do, given his state of mind, but this was no more or less than the class would expect from the teacher, and no-one seemed to make a connection between the bruising on the two of them. And why should they, she wondered? The idea of Harry and Snape fighting was too ridiculous for anyone to consider, even given their well-known enmity. Only Hermione seemed to notice the change in the way they looked at each other – Severus now seemed to have a little more respect, however carefully hidden, for Harry, and the student, in his turn was more able to meet the teacher's eyes in resentful defiance of his sneering comments.

Potions lessons after this had been tense, but mostly uneventful. Snape continued with his usual practice of pouring praise on the Slytherins and derision on Gryffindors, respectively awarding and deducting house points at every opportunity. Hermione was the subject of much amusement from the Slytherin students, when she fell victim to Snape's icy tongue for a piece of work that was, according to him, inadequate, badly written and showing practically no understanding of the subject matter.

"I will begin to regret my approval of your sixth-year project, Miss Granger," he snarled at her, "if this is the standard to which your work has slipped as a result." He tossed a handful of scrolls onto her desk, allowing one of them to roll off and fall to the ground with a clatter. "If I didn't know better, I would almost believe these were written by Longbottom."

As a matter of fact, Hermione's project had been progressing extremely well. Many evenings had been spent working in companionable silence in the dungeon – often with the two other students choosing Potions for their projects. After a frighteningly close call just before Halloween, Thomas' work on antidotes was now proving, thankfully, more than a match for Alex's poison brewing capabilities.

In deference to Dumbledore's comments about secrecy, the lovers had taken more care about covering their tracks. Hermione had spent many nights in Severus' arms, but they had carefully ensured that she was safely back in her own room before anyone else in the Gryffindor tower had stirred. In part, this was also to prevent further trouble being caused between Hermione and her friends. Although little was being said about Snape, once they were speaking to her again, she did not want to provide constant reminders of the situation, by allowing them to see her returning early in the mornings.

They had not avoided the subject altogether, though, and Hermione had at least had the opportunity to explain that Severus – they flinched at the name – had a side to him that was gentle and not at all the (in Ron's words) 'evil git' that they thought they knew. She had not planned on telling them about Professor Dumbledore, but when Ron asked if anyone else knew, she found that she could not lie to them. They were horrified to hear his comments, but the headmaster's assessment of Hermione's ability to make her own decisions seemed to give them some food for thought. They agreed to follow his lead, but preferred not to hear too much about it, which Hermione thought was the best arrangement, all-in-all.

As the end of November approached, things finally seemed to be getting closer to normal, as the two asked for Hermione's assistance with their own 'project' of finding the passage to the lake. Despite their agreement at Halloween, all of their explorations in the dungeon had been by the boys alone, carefully avoiding the area of the Bloody Baron's portrait. They explained to her about how they had found themselves in the Potions classroom that night, and she had shuddered at the thought of running into the Bloody Baron. Their explorations had proved fruitless, and they realized that they needed more information to narrow down the search. Hermione hit upon the idea of asking Nearly Headless Nick, but he was unable to help them. They had hoped that his knowledge of the castle would prove useful, but at their question about the area where the Bloody Baron had been spotted, he clammed up completely, and began to avoid all conversation about the dungeons.

"Marvelous," said Ron, disappointed. "You always think that living people are supposed to be frightened by ghosts, but the other ghosts seem more frightened of the Baron than we are. What can he do to them?" he demanded. "Kill them again?"

But all argument proved hopeless, and they eventually gave up on Nick and followed Hermione's lead to head back to the library.

An event that made Hermione happier than she had been since the night of discovery was Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the year. Slytherin and Hufflepuff had already played, during the first weekend in November, with Slytherin winning (with several rather dubious and underhand moves) by almost two hundred points. Now was the match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and Hermione watched from the stands with Ron, Neville and Hagrid. Even for Hermione, who had never fully grasped (or cared about, despite her brief romance with Victor Krum) the intricacies of the game, it was amazing to watch. It was a hard fought battle, with Ravenclaw having a strong team of chasers, who were pushing ahead and kept widening the gap between the scores. It had reached two hundred and forty to Ravenclaw and one hundred and twenty to Gryffindor, with no sign of the snitch. With the opposition a hundred and twenty points ahead, Gryffindor could not afford to lose more, or even the capture of the snitch would not save the game. At last, a streak of red flashed across the pitch, hurtling towards the ground at an amazing speed. Harry had seen the Snitch. Ron grabbed Hermione's arm as he stood, his eyes focused unwaveringly on the zooming broom, then, as Harry swerved at the last minute, and shot into the air in triumph, Ron turned to her and threw his arms around her in excitement. She hugged him back, fiercely, and when they pulled apart, he smiled at her – a genuinely warm smile – for the first time in several weeks. Talking excitedly with Harry, on the way back to the school, Ron even managed to joke with her.

"Great job, Harry," he grinned. "It's just a good thing you weren't playing against Slytherin. I'm not quite sure which team Hermione would have been cheering for!"

She was worried for a second, until she saw the expression on his face, then punched him playfully. "Don't worry," she laughed. "When it comes to Gryffindor versus Slytherin at Quidditch, Severus Snape is on his own!"

Heading back to her room, after a long evening of laughing by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was surprised to find a single red rose on her pillow. The stem was wrapped in ribbons of green and silver – the Slytherin colours. There was no note, but she smiled. Severus had some work to finish tonight and did not want any 'distractions' ("Me, a distraction?" she had asked, innocently, at the time), so they had agreed that she they would sleep apart.

Placing the rose in a glass of water beside her bed, she sniffed the fragrant petals. "You're turning into quite a romantic, Severus Snape!" she said softly.

The next morning, Hermione managed to sneak a smile to Severus as he left the Great Hall after breakfast, then hurried down to the dungeon to see him. He was in his office, and she closed the door before rushing over to perch on his lap. She wrapped her arms about his neck, and kissed him, lovingly.

"I missed you last night, Severus," she told him, as his arms encircled her and he held her tightly.

"Indeed?" was his only reply.

She ran her fingers into his hair, wishing she could do more. "I can't stay long," she said, regretfully. "I said I'd meet Ron and Harry in the library, but I wanted to come and thank you for the rose."

His response surprised her. "What rose?"

She assumed that he was teasing her, but – no – the expression on his face was serious. "The rose on my pillow, last night."

Clearly, he was not joking, and knew nothing about this. "I didn't leave you a rose, Hermione." He tipped his head back a little, and looked at her with an expression she was not sure she liked. "It would seem that you have a secret admirer."

She smiled and kissed him again. "Very puzzling. But you know that I love you – I could never want anyone but you, Severus." A playful glint came into her eyes, "And I do love a mystery!"


	24. Drifting Minds

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 24 – Drifting Minds**

It was a clear night as Hermione and Snape stepped out of the castle hand in hand. Hermione had read about invisibility spells, and knew them to be tricky – more so, even than apparition.

"I will teach you," he told her, "but it will take time and concentration."

This sounded perfect to her – the more complex and difficult the spell, the more she wanted to learn it. "I like a challenge," she laughed. "In the meantime, I think I can live with having to hold your hand!" This was the only way for the spell cast around Severus to include her too. As long as they touched, they could walk unseen.

They had never been out of the castle together, and Hermione liked the feeling. The air was cold and fresh, but their thick cloaks protected them, and his hand seemed to transfer warmth from his own body to hers.

She found herself opening up her thoughts to him, wanting to tell him everything she was feeling. "I don't know what it is about you, Severus," she told him, softly. "When I'm with you I feel so warm and somehow – safe – as though nothing could possibly harm me when we're together."

He smiled. "Nothing can harm you. It would have to come through me, first!" He squeezed her hand.

Pausing, hesitantly, she wondered whether or not to bring up the subject, but plundered on, feeling that nothing could be taboo between them. "Severus," she began, "I know that we don't talk about this, but – do you think Voldemort will come back?"

It was something they had never discussed. Until last year, and the battle that had left Harry barely alive, it was only the name that went unspoken, but now the very subject of Voldemort was seldom raised in the wizarding world.

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper. "Yes. He will come back," there was no doubt in the voice. For him it was a certainty. "It may be in a year – it may be in fifty – but he will come back."

"And the Death-Eaters?" Hermione didn't want to have to think about it, but it was better for her to know.

Again the pause. "There is evil in the world that will continue whether Voldemort returns in our lifetimes or not, Hermione." He turned to her, and took both her hands in his. "The Death-Eaters have lost their strength and their protector, but they have lost none of their hate, or their passion for blood and death. If you are worried that I may become involved in their dealings again, then the answer is – yes – I may have no option."

The pain in Hermione's face must have been clear, even in the darkness, as he drew her to him, cradling her in his arms. "Don't worry, Hermione," he whispered. "I don't believe that they have the courage to surface without Voldemort's power. I think we're free of them for a long time." He drew back, and placed a hand on her cheek. "Besides – you have changed everything for me. For the first time since I made the terrible mistake of joining them – I have something to live for!"

Tears threatened Hermione's eyes as she gazed up into his dark face, but she held them back. "I love you," she said, simply, feeling that somehow the words couldn't possibly express the way she felt.

In the shadows, she could not see his eyes, but she felt them on her face. "You don't know what that means to me, Hermione," he whispered hoarsely. "I love you too – so much. So much!"

They held each other for a long time, then once again he took her hand and continued leading her through the Hogwarts grounds.

"Did you find out who sent the rose?" Severus' tone was casual as he changed the subject, but she suspected that the off-handedness was taking some effort on his part. It had been a week since she had found the rose on her pillow, and she still had no clue as to the sender, other than the house colours on the stem.

"No idea," she replied. "It must be a Slytherin, from the colours of the ribbons, but it doesn't matter anyway. Why would I care who sent it?"

He squeezed her hand. "Just watch out for those Slytherins," he warned. "They're sneaky and treacherous. Definitely not to be trusted."

She laughed. "I think most of them would see that as a compliment!" His only comment was a soft, indecipherable grunt. "Where are we going, anyway?" she asked him. The walk had been his idea – he had said he wanted to show her something. They walked for a long time, away from the castle, and it was only once Severus slowed and drew them both to a halt that she realized how deceptive the gentle slope they had climbed had been.

They were standing at the highest point in the Hogwarts grounds – not particularly high, in actuality, but enough to give a wonderful view of the castle and the forbidden forest in the moonlight. Hermione stood still, looking out across the view. She had never seen the castle from this angle, and it looked huge and mysterious, even though she knew it as well as any student there. The towers soared high above the main castle, lights in some windows giving a gentle glow to the night outside. The many courtyards were shrouded in dark shadow, and the grounds were wide and open. To the right, the lake glinted in the moonlight, while the forbidden forest stretched out darkly – a blackness that seemed to envelop the surrounding area, mysterious and sinister.

Snape laid his cloak down on the ground, and sat, pulling her with him. It was soft and warm, and the cold of the night air did not seem to touch them. "Stay on the cloak," he whispered, "and we'll be warm. I put a charm on it."

"Foolish wand waving?" Hermione quipped.

He shrugged. "It has its uses!"

She sat with her back to him, between his legs, and resting back into his arms. They gazed out across the scene, watching every movement – owls soaring overhead, a brief splash in the lake, sending ripples outwards until they gradually died away, the breeze stirring the branches in the forest. Everything was bathed in a soft moonlight, and Hermione felt that she could stay like this all night.

Severus began to speak very softly, almost breathing the words into her ear.

"Let your mind relax, Hermione," he murmured slowly. "Let me teach you magic that needs no wands or potions. It's not magic at all, it's simply – life." His voice was measured and hypnotic, and she let herself be led by it. She felt as though her mind were drifting from her body, and floating with the wind.

"Let your mind drift. Feel the breeze on your face, and let it carry you away. Imagine your mind is a leaf on that breeze and see where it will take you. You have no weight – no substance – you have become the breeze. It is taking you away from here – across the lake. You can feel the cool contact of the water as you touch it briefly as you pass over it. You make tiny ripples that head outwards and disappear. Now you're drifting onwards. The water is behind you, and you are moving over the trees. The leaves brush against you as you move, and you hear their soft rustle as you stir them. You are one with the trees and the darkness. The night surrounds and envelops you, and you are at perfect peace with the world. You can feel the life in the forests – the trees, the creatures, the wind – and you are one with that life. You are the life of the forest, and it is you.

"You are coming back to me now. You are leaving the forest, and your mind is once again over the lake. The water is like silk under your touch, and you feel it's life. The grass is beneath you now, and it sways and bends under the breeze that is your mind. You have become the grass – you understand its existence – you know its thoughts and feelings – you sway in the breeze and reach up to the sky. You reach down into the cool earth and feel its power and life. You move on, and you are the breeze. You pick up aleaf in your drifting mind, and carry it along. You have become the leaf, and the wind is carrying you back to me. You are here with me now, and the breeze is on your face."

Hermione stirred as she felt the warmth of Severus' breath, blowing gently across her cheek. His arms were around her and neither of them had moved. She was somehow calm and exhilarated and at peace all at the same time. Taking deep breaths, she leaned back against him, feeling his warmth and strength behind her.

"What was that?" she asked, softly, a little shaken.

Severus kissed her cheek. "That was what I wanted to show you, my darling," he whispered. "There are many kinds of magic in the world – I wanted to share that one with you."

"It was beautiful, Severus," she whispered. "Thank you."

He rested his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled against the side of her face. "I do it myself, sometimes," he explained, "to escape wherever I am and let my mind drift. With practice, one can do it from anywhere – or to anywhere – but it helps at first, if one can see the place. That's why I brought you here."

"I'm glad you did." It felt wonderful to spend time out here with Severus, away from the castle. She wished there was a way to spend more time like this – but then, maybe ...

"Severus," she asked, softly, "do you always stay here for Christmas?"

His head tilted to the side in a question. "Usually, but not always. Why?"

She had an idea. "I've already told my parents that I might want to stay here this year. The family's spending Christmas at my aunt's house, and it's not my idea of fun."

"Indeed?" in a single word, he managed to convey his puzzlement and interest.

She reached a hand up to touch his face, and he kissed her fingers lightly as she continued. "Owl post would find me wherever I am. Harry and Ron would assume I was home, and no-one would know if I wasn't here."

Severus was silent for a while, then spoke softly, with amusement in his voice. "Ms. Granger, you are becoming devious and conniving. Maybe you should have been in Slytherin!"

For a long time, they stayed at the top of the hill, drinking in the view and the night air, then, wrapping their cloaks about them, they walked slowly back to the castle, hand in hand.


	25. Thoughts of Christmas

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 25 – Thoughts of Christmas**

Harry and Ron drew their cloaks about themselves as they crossed the grounds to Hagrid's hut, discussing the rose that Hermione had found on her pillow. They had not managed to find out anything at all about the identity of the mystery admirer, and had no idea how to change this. Hermione had told them about it – and about Snape's denial – and it seemed that she was as much in the dark as they.

"I wonder what Snape thinks about it," wondered Ron. "I can imagine him being the jealous type."

Harry agreed, hoping, for Hermione's sake, that this was not too much the case. "Maybe it's a good thing," he suggested. "Hermione might change her mind about him if there's someone else sending her roses!"

Neither was happy about their wish to disrupt Hermione's love life, but they could not help feeling this way about the man they both hated. They had agreed that they would never deliberately sabotage things, but she couldn't expect them to approve or encourage her.

"The only problem, though," said Ron, "is that it had Slytherin colours. It could be someone worse than Snape!"

Harry didn't see how this could be possible. "No way! The only person that could be worse than Snape would be ..."

They looked at each other, horrified, and said, in unison, "Malfoy!"

For a moment, they stared at each other, then began to laugh uncontrollably at the thought. Malfoy had reacted badly to the events of the previous year and, while he had lost a little of his cockiness, he was probably more malicious and loathsome than he had ever been. True, they had had no idea that the apparent hostility between Snape and Hermione had been to cover their real feelings, but the idea of Hermione and Malfoy was simply too far fetched.

They were still laughing as they reached the door to Hagrid's hut.

"What you two up to, then?" he asked them, as he gestured them in, but before they could answer, he had turned to the corner of his hut and was beckoning them over, excitedly. He was pointing to the dark space under his bed, from which was coming a faint snuffling noise. Every few seconds, this would erupt into a loud banging and screeching, as though something was trying to get out, and the two boys could just catch a glimpse of something hairy and fast spinning around in the darkness. "Look wha' I got!" Hagrid told them proudly.

Past experience made Harry and Ron extremely wary. It was only the fact that neither wanted to risk offending their friend and teacher, that prevented them both from edging back towards the door. "What is it, Hagrid?" Harry asked, cautiously, not at all certain he wanted to know.

Hagrid beamed. "No idea!" he said with a happy shrug. "It came in last night when I let Fang out, and it won't leave. I'm calling him Marmaduke!"

"Erm ...Oh... !" said Ron, not quite sure what else would be appropriate. It was only then that he noticed Fang in the opposite corner of the hut, as far away from the unidentified guest as possible. He whimpered at Harry and Ron from behind Hagrid's armchair, and they could quite see his point! Still, Marmaduke, whatever he – or she, or it – was, seemed quite content to stay under the bed, and no-one except Hagrid would object to this arrangement. They sat down in the huge armchairs by the fire, and drank the hot tea that Hagrid poured for them.

They talked about the upcoming Christmas holidays, which they were both spending at Hogwarts, and their hopes of finding the hidden passage to the lake. Hagrid, seeming more and more the experienced teacher each year, reminded them about their sixth-year projects, and the draft report that they had to hand in immediately after the holidays.

When asked about Hermione, they felt guilty about having to say that they still didn't know who her new boyfriend was. They told him about the anonymous rose, though, and he seemed to enjoy the mystery. "Well, o' course she's going t'ave boys around 'er, Hermione is!" he told them. "Prettiest girl in't school! I'm surprised it wasn't one o' you two sendin' 'er roses!" He chuckled. "But after seein' yer dancin' at Halloween, I suppose you've got other girls on yer minds!"

Ron was forced to take desperate measures to change the subject. "Oh, look," he said brightly, pointing under the bed. "I think I saw a claw!" It was an effective diversion, and the names Parvati and Ginny were, thankfully, avoided.

Before leaving, they took a romp outside the hut with Fang. "Don't worry, boy," sympathized Harry. "I'm sure Marmaduke won't stay too long!" Fang did not seem too convinced, but licked Harry and Ron's faces before heading back to the hut at the sound of Hagrid's voice.

Snape surveyed the classroom from his seat behind his desk. All was silent as the class worked with heads down. They were a pathetic lot, he mused – not a decent potion-brewer between them. Most were barely competent, with a couple almost as bad as Longbottom. Still – they were keen enough. A small knot of them tried hard – it was a pity that they had no aptitude in the subject, and could never hope to master its intricacies.

The movement of a head caught his attention. "Graves," he rumbled, "keep your eyes on your own work. Besides, the quality of Parker's work scarcely merits plagiarism."

A silent lesson with students working on a test suited him well today. His mind had been wandering, and he wanted some peace in which to enjoy his thoughts. A little over a week would see the students leaving for Christmas, and for a change he would be leaving with them. As soon as Hermione had suggested the idea of spending the holidays together, he had known immediately where they should go. He had not been to his own home for almost three years, but it would be the perfect place.

Home. He hardly thought of it as home, really – Hogwarts had long since claimed that title – but there was still a connection. It was a place that he had spent so little time in that he could hardly remember ever thinking of it as a base for his life, but it was his own. His seclusion. His haven. Since he had bought it several years ago, he had never once had a visitor, nor wanted one. Few people knew of its existence, and the magic and solitude around it ensured privacy. The old stone building stood in a large clearing surrounded by dense trees, sloping down from the main door to a small lake. The area was completely deserted for miles around, but if anyone, magic or muggle, should happen to stray that way, they would see nothing but trees. In all, he had barely spent more than a few weeks at the place, but they had been peaceful times. He had been able to relax completely – undisturbed by the commotion of the outside world.

He wasn't quite sure why he had left it for so long. He told himself that it was because the less time he spent there, the more he appreciated it, but he knew, at the back of his mind, that he sometimes found the quiet a little too much so. Being left alone with one's thoughts is not always a good thing, he reflected, cynically, when those thoughts are as dark as mine.

But this visit would be different. Instead of isolation and solitude, it would become a place of perfect happiness. Picturing Hermione sitting in the room he liked to term 'the library', in front of a blazing fire, he felt that she belonged there – that somehow the place had never been complete before, and he had only just realized what had been missing. He saw her in his arms, and in his bed – nestled in the warmth and comfort ...

He forced himself quickly to his feet. He had to stop thinking about this, while he was teaching! Prowling round the room, he watched the students in his care, glaring critically down as he looked over their shoulders to review their work.

"Agnew," he snarled softly. "I believe I requested silence!"

Keep your mind on your class, Severus, he told himself sternly. It will be Christmas soon enough. He realized, with a carefully restrained smile, that for the first time since he joined Hogwarts, he was looking forward to Christmas and the end of school as much as the students were.


	26. Blood and Roses

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 26 – Blood and Roses**

"Have you spoken to Hermione yet?"

The voice came from below Ron and to his left, as he rushed down the staircase, late for his next class. He stopped sharply and listened.

He didn't recognize the voice that had spoken, but he knew the second well enough.

"No, I've tried, but I never have the nerve." It was Alistair Baddock.

Ron edged to the banister and peered over, looking down onto the heads of the two boys at the foot of the stairs. The other boy, he now recognized as Malcolm, Alistair's younger brother.

He seemed to be finding the older boy's hesitancy amusing. "Just ask her," he said. "What can be so hard about that? You sent her the rose didn't you?"

Holding his breath, Ron listened closely. There was one mystery solved!

"Well, yes, but... "

The younger brother interrupted him. "Just talk to her. Anyway – I'd better get to class, or McGonagall will have kittens!"

He rushed off, leaving his brother standing deep in thought. Then he seemed to shake himself before hurrying off, leaving Ron staring after him.

Catching up with Harry at the last class of the day, he told him what he had overheard.

"So what do you think?" he asked. "Should we tell Hermione?"

Harry didn't think they had much of a choice about it. "She'll kill us if we don't and she finds out!" He thought about the news with interest. "He's not bad, as far as Slytherins go." He said. "It could have been worse."

Anything's better than Malfoy, thought Ron. "What do you think Hermione will say?"

There would be only one way to find out about that. As they stepped out of their last class, they thought they would have the perfect opportunity to tell her as she rushed past.

"Hermione!" Ron called out after her.

She slowed and turned, but was clearly in a hurry to be somewhere. "Hi, Ron. Harry," she smiled. "I've got to run. See you at dinner?" She hurried off.

"Wonder what she's in such a hurry for?" asked Ron, rolling his eyes.

Hermione did not want to leave Severus' office, but knew that Ron and Harry would be waiting for her at dinner. They had arranged to spend the evening in the library, getting a head start on their work, so that they didn't end up with too much over Christmas. They had only three school days left before the end of term, and none of them had plans to spend the holidays with their noses in books!

"I have to go, Severus!" she laughed, as he gripped her waist, holding her to him. "They'll be waiting for me."

Eventually, he relented, and released her. Giving him a final kiss, she stepped quickly out of his reach and headed for the door before he could change his mind.

"Just remember that tomorrow night is all ours, Ms. Granger!" he warned her in a dangerously low voice.

She smiled and closed the door quietly behind her.

Laughing to herself, she headed quickly through the dim corridor to the stairs to the main school. Her mind was so much on thoughts of her lover that she almost walked into the figure that was heading in the opposite direction. It was Alistair.

"Sorry, Alistair," she smiled, dodging him at the last minute before a collision.

It was only when she had already gone a few steps beyond him that he spoke her name. "Hermione?" She turned. "I... erm... wanted to ask you something."

He looked nervous, and seemed to be uncomfortable about something. "Sure," Hermione said, wondering what could be making him nervous.

"I... wanted to ask you... if... next time there's a Hogsmeade weekend, if... you'd like to go with me?" The last part was blurted out quickly, as though he wanted to say it before his courage died.

This was unexpected, and Hermione found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "I... "

He continued, trying to fill the awkward silence. "I understand if you don't want to. I mean,... " He suddenly changed subjects, and caught her off guard. "Did you like the rose?"

If this conversation had happened at the start of term, it might have been quite different, she reflected, but there was no way that she could think of anyone but Severus now. It was impossible to imagine herself with anyone else. Alistair was tall and good-looking, and she had enjoyed their dances at Halloween. She had found him pleasant to talk to, but she had no other feelings for him.

"I loved the rose," she said, truthfully. "It was a really sweet gesture. But... I don't feel the same way. I'm sorry."

Alistair's eyes were on the floor, and he didn't look up as he said, "That's... that's okay. I just wanted to ask." He seemed rooted to the spot where he stood, not knowing quite what to do now. Eventually, he managed a mumbled, "I'll see you around, then," but made no move to go.

Hermione felt awkward, wishing there was some other way to let him down. "I think you're a really nice guy, Alistair," she told him softly, "but... I'm seeing someone else."

He nodded. Hermione turned to go, but on impulse, she turned back to him, lightly touched his shoulder, and reached up on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for the rose," she said softly, then turned and headed up the stairs.

Snape gave Hermione enough time to be out of the corridor, then followed her towards the Great Hall. He would make the most of the time before the holidays, too, and make sure that his time with Hermione over Christmas would not be interrupted with anything as trivial as work! A quick dinner, then he would get his marking out of the way. With his lack of concentration over the last few weeks, he was well behind where he should be!

He stepped out of the classroom, strode down the passage, and stopped himself as he sensed people ahead of him. Hermione should have gone by now, but he didn't want to run into her. They were heading the same way, and it wouldn't do to be seen walking together.

Slowing as he reached the bend in the corridor, he saw two figures in the dimness. They had been kissing – they were drawing apart now. He should step ahead and break them apart – probably Slytherins, so a few simple put- downs would suffice, rather than actually taking house points! It was only when he heard the soft voice he knew so well that he froze in his tracks. "Thank you for the rose."

Hermione!

The boy – it was Baddock! Halloween. I never did like that boy, he thought. Oh, my prophetic soul.

His body was cold. Drained. Empty.

Forcing his footsteps backwards, he pulled into the shadows. He stood for a moment, then spun, his robes billowing behind him as he headed back to the classroom.

He didn't need to eat. Could miss going to the Great Hall. He had work to do. The piles of papers on his desk would not mark themselves and he didn't want to have to work over the holidays. He sat at his desk, calmly picking up his quill and pulling a stack of papers towards him.

Baddock. He forced his thoughts away from the boy in his house, and looked down at the paper in front of him.

Blood. Alyson Wright's essay on the basic uses of powdered lizard skins had several large drops of blood on the parchment, and he realized with detached awareness, that it was his. In his hand was an empty vial – it had been on his desk – he must have been moving it to make room to mark the papers. It was shattered into long slivers, and his knuckles were white as he still clutched the sharp shards.

Turning his hand over with remote curiosity, he watched the drips of blood run across his palm and fall onto the scroll.


	27. A Change of Plan

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 27 – A Change of Plan**

By Wednesday morning, the students were well into the spirit of Christmas, and had hoped that the same would apply to the teachers. Alas, this was not the case – and certainly not when it came to Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall had decided that a surprise test would be an effective method of keeping her students focused on work, and sprang this on them at the start of the lesson. Hermione, naturally, finished earlier than most, and was using the time to revise her notes (she was one of the few who didn't object to the teachers' unforgiving workloads), when the teacher leaned over to her.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall asked quietly, so as not to disturb those still working, "as you have finished your test, I wonder if you would mind slipping down to the dungeon for me? Professor Snape offered to supply me with some dragonfly wings, and I have not had chance to collect them from him."

Hermione smiled. How could she object to a trip to the dungeon?

The class of first years studiously measuring and mixing, under the watchful eye of the Potions Master, looked every bit as nervous as Hermione remembered being, in first year Potions. The mixtures in the cauldrons were mostly a deep mustard yellow, with the exception of the one in the corner, on which the teacher's attention was currently focused. The student responsible for the reddish, smoking liquid quivered visibly under Snape's glare, clearly wishing to be anywhere but where she was.

From her position in the open doorway, Hermione watched the scene, feeling incredibly sorry for the poor girl, who was wearing an expression remarkably like the one so often on Neville's face. However, she had long ago promised herself that she would not comment too much on his style of teaching. She had made her views known, but beyond that, felt that she had no right to interfere.

She studied him for a moment – those dark eyes, the hair down to his shoulders, the proud stance – he was not exactly handsome, but his appearance was striking, and just looking at him made her draw breath. As he spoke, his voice added to her arousal, rumbling inside her mind, exciting her with its throaty, resonant hum.

"Jenkins," growled Snape, "after more than three months of being in my class, you never cease to amaze me with your ever more fascinating ways of displaying your incompetence."

Hermione sighed. It was unfortunate (or maybe not, she reflected, wryly) that the words drew her thoughts away from his incredible sensuality. Miss Jenkins was looking miserably down at her feet, waiting for the inevitable deduction of house-points, and Hermione chose that moment to step in, drawing the cat's attention away from the mouse.

Snape looked up as she moved. "You are interrupting my lesson, Granger!"

They had long been playing this game in the sixth-year lessons, and Hermione met his less than warm welcome without expression. "I'm sorry Professor Snape," she responded composedly. "Professor McGonagall asked me to pick up some dragonfly wings for her."

He regarded her coldly, then turned to his desk, picked up a sealed package, and handed it to her. "Kindly inform Professor McGonagall that in future I would prefer not to be disturbed while I am teaching." Hermione was a little surprised. True, this was how they always acted during lessons, but she thought she knew his eyes well enough to see the glint in them as they battled. This time, there was nothing. She shrugged it off, lightly. He was getting too good at this game – he was beginning to fool even her.

"Yes, Professor."

Several hours later, Hermione was stepping back into the classroom, and paused at the doorway as she had done earlier. He was standing in much the same place as during their morning encounter, but this time with his back to her. She watched him for a moment, then spoke.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor," she said, stepping into the classroom, "but Professor McGonagall sent me!"

He did not turn. "I'm not in the mood for games, Hermione!" His voice was dispassionate. Cold.

Hermione's heart sank. This did not bode well for the lovely night they had planned – dinner, maybe a walk, making love in front of the fire. "Severus, what's wrong?" She closed the door behind her, and crossed over to him, placing a hand on his back.

He did not respond to the touch, acting as though he had not felt it. His arms were folded in front of him, and his back was rigid. "I see that you finally discovered the identity of the mysterious admirer." He still wasn't looking at her. "Have you been getting more roses?"

A relieved sigh went through Hermione's body. Was that all? If this was simply a case of misunderstanding, it should be easy to set the record straight. "Alistair told me last night, as I was leaving here, that he sent the rose. I told him I wasn't interested."

"You kissed him," he said, simply.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I gave him a kiss on the cheek to thank him for the rose." She had no reason to lie to him about this – she genuinely had no interest in anyone but Severus. "It was a very sweet gesture, even if it was misguided."

Severus' resolute stance on this subject surprised and troubled Hermione very much. Surely he trusted her more than this? He knew that she loved him. How could he possibly suspect that she would even think of anyone else? Yet his body language showed no weakening of his resolve. Still he did not move, and, with his head held high, staring straight ahead, she could not even look straight into his eyes.

This was beginning to worry and annoy her. "What is going on, Severus?" she demanded. "Don't you trust me? You know that I love you. Why are you even questioning this?"

"I suppose Baddock is lucky that your friends weren't sneaking around when the two of you were kissing," Snape snarled. "He might have got the same reaction as me. He is a Slytherin, after all!"

Hermione's patience snapped. She turned away from him, disbelievingly, then whirled back to face him. "How dare you react this way to an innocent kiss?" she challenged. "If either of us has a right not to trust the other it's me! After what you did to me, I managed to put that behind us. I forgave you. I fell in love with you. How can you not trust me now?"

Snape had still not moved. She paused, unable to comprehend why he was doing this. "Do you know what I was thinking when I was talking to Alistair?" she asked him. "I was comparing him to you. I was thinking about how I could never even consider seeing him, when I'm so much in love with you." She took a deep breath, and calmed her voice, reducing it to the softness that he used as his weapon against the rest of the world. "Maybe I was wrong about you, Severus," she said softly.

Snape's eyes finally turned to meet hers, but they were black and unfeeling. "I think that now would be a good time for you to leave, Ms. Granger," he said, icily.

For a moment, she stared at him. "After what we've been through, I never thought that you wouldn't trust me, Severus," she told him softly, determined to keep her voice in check and not allow him to reduce her to tears in front of him. Fighting to keep herself under control, she left the classroom, quietly closing the door behind her.

Snape still did not move. Let her think that, he thought, coldly.

From the moment she had told him that she wasn't interested in Baddock, he had believed her without question. That was no longer an issue, and he had no doubts about her love. But let her think that. Let her believe that he was too jealous to trust her – too cynical ever to have faith in her. At least that would give her reason to hate him, and afford her some protection. It would be a less painful reason for her to live with than the truth behind his feelings. Or worse – less painful that allowing those feelings ever to come to the surface.

He looked down, and studied the red marks across his hand. They were healed inexpertly, but he really didn't care. He had deeper marks than these, although not all were quite as visible.

Their relationship could no longer be allowed to continue. That was certain. But he could never tell her why. The truth was more than she could possibly handle, and he would have to bear the burden alone.

Steeling himself against the waves of emotions that were threatening to drown him, he set his face into a mask of granite, and turned towards his rooms alone.

Harry looked up from the chessboard as Hermione passed through the Gryffindor common room. He was losing badly, as always, and his players were getting impatient, sensing the approach of their twelfth defeat in a row!

"Hermione?" he called after her, as she rushed by them. There was no reply, and she disappeared up the stairs. He hadn't seen her face clearly, but he was sure she had been crying.

Ron turned to look in the direction she had left. "What was wrong?"

Harry shrugged, concerned. "I suppose she and Snape must have had an argument."

He caught his friend's eye, and realized that he was struggling with the same feelings as himself. But no – Hermione had been happy lately – neither of them could possibly wish for things to go wrong, however much they hated Snape.

Ron looked around, and caught his sister's eye. She was across the other side of the common room, and had seen Hermione's quick run through. She mouthed something that Ron couldn't quite catch, but her meaning was clear as she set off up the stairs after her friend.

She was only gone for a few minutes, though, and returned looking downcast. "She's crying in her room," she reported, "but she won't let me in. She wouldn't say anything."

Looking at each other, uncomfortably, they had no option but to wait for her to come out.

The next day, Hermione went about her lessons as normal, refusing to talk to Ron and Harry about what had happened. "It will sort itself out," she told them, when they asked, then firmly changed the subject.

It was what she had been telling herself all day. She had cried herself to sleep, finally, in the early hours of the morning, then woken with a resolve to smooth things over. She would go to him after her classes, and force him to listen to her.

The time approached, and as she left her final class of the day, she hurried to leave her bags in the Gryffindor tower, then raced across the common room to go to his rooms. Before she could reach the portrait hole, however, she heard a snatch of conversation that stopped her. Two second years were talking excitedly in the armchairs by the fire.

"So Potions tomorrow is cancelled?" one of them was asking.

The other sounded like Christmas was early. "Yep!" she laughed happily. "My brother said that he left straight after their class this afternoon. He didn't have a class last thing today, and he's cancelled all his classes tomorrow."

They were practically jumping out of their chairs. "No more Potions until next year! Merry Christmas, Professor Snape!"

As Hermione reached the dungeon at a full run, she knew that she would find it empty. The classroom – deserted. His office – empty. His private rooms – she opened them with the spell she knew so well, but knew that it was pointless. She still had to check, though, before she could make herself believe it.

Severus had left without her.


	28. The Letter

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 28 – The Letter**

Many miles from Hogwarts, the last light of a glowing sun lit up the tops of the trees, bathing them in a golden light as they swayed in the wind. The lake, until a few minutes ago, touched by that same light, lay dark and restless. The wind played with the surface, picking up the top layer and whipping up small waves to dash against the rocky bank. Something large – a stag, maybe – turned from where it drank, hidden by thick bushes at the edge of the water, startled by a heavy fall of snow sliding from the branch of a tree as it reached over the water, and slipped silently back into the protection of the trees. The ray of sunlight rested, momentarily, on a drifting bank of snow at the top of the slope above an old stone house, then winked out as the sun finally slid beneath the horizon.

Inside the house, the dimming sky, reflecting off the snow-covered landscape, provided enough light to see a dark figure seated, unmoving, in a large chair. No candles were lit, and the empty grate could provide neither light nor warmth to the room or the man. He had watched the light of the sun through the window, falling on the wall opposite, and had followed its path across the floor and back up the wall at the other side, before disappearing and leaving the room in shadow. An owl flew overhead, dropped a carefully sealed scroll into the chimney, then disappeared over the trees, glad to be rid of the heavy load. The scroll slid easily down the chimney into the grate, and rolled to the floor, coming to rest touching the foot of Severus Snape.

He stared at it for many minutes before calling it to his hand. Even then, he held it for a long time before pulling at the ribbon around it, and breaking the seal. Without the crudity of words or wand, he flicked the candles into flame, and looked down at Hermione's elegant hand – a little less precise than usual, maybe. The address at the top was a muggle town, but not her home. She must have gone with her parents to her relative's place for Christmas. It was dated December 25th – she must have written it today, and arranged a special delivery to ensure he got it.

_My Darling Severus_, it began. He drew in his breath, and moved to re-seal it. He couldn't read this, but then... he couldn't put it aside, either. Having no other option, he opened it in front of him and read.

_December 25_

_My Darling Severus,_

_I don't know what is going on right now, and it hurts me very much. Whatever the problem is, it was wrong of you to leave like that, without at least talking to me. I have no idea where you are, or what you are thinking, so all I can do is write this and hope that it brings you to your senses._

_Something tells me that there is more to your behavior over the incident with the rose than just jealousy. I really do not believe that you think I would be seeing anyone else – or even want to. Whatever it is, I wish that you would tell me, so we can talk about it, rather than bottling it up inside. There is something that has caused a rift between us – in your mind, at least – but how can I fight against something that I can't see? The only thing I can think of is to tell you how I feel about you and hope that you can see the truth in it._

_When I first started spending time in the dungeon with you, I saw a side to you that I had never known existed. All my life, I have felt apart from everyone else. I've always been different. I had magical abilities from being very young, even though no-one recognized them as magic. My parents have no magic in them, so they don't really understand me. At school – even Hogwarts – I've always been apart from my friends. I love Harry and Ron, but their interests are different from mine, and academically, I don't want to boast, but I know that I'm ahead of the rest of the year. I love learning, but it does make it difficult for me to find anyone to relate to. When we started spending time together, I gradually realized that I had found someone I could really talk to. Someone who understood me, and whose company I found myself wanting more and more of._

_Then you raped me. It was painful and degrading, and very frightening. I've never been so frightened, and yet, physically, you aroused me and made me feel things I have never known before. I do not know why I don't hate you for what you did, but I don't – though I can't pretend it doesn't still scare me to think about it. You are a passionate man, but you keep your emotions very tightly under control. There are things in your past that we don't talk about and that I could never understand, and I know that I saw some of that, that night. If I thought that that was the real Severus Snape, I wouldn't have hesitated in going straight to Professor McGonagall, or Professor Dumbledore, but I really don't believe that. You are not that man any more, Severus – that night was the last vestige of what you used to be._

_I wish your passion had surfaced in some other way – if that night had never happened, I am sure that we would still have realized our true feelings, and we would still have enjoyed these last three months together – but the past cannot be changed, and it is part of our history. I have forgiven you for this, and I carry it with me, as much a part of us as every other moment we have spent together._

_What I would have difficulty in forgiving you for, though, would be if you continued with this lack of trust in me, after I have shown so much faith in you. I know you too well to believe that this is about my fidelity to you, but the fact that you didn't tell me – and that you left the way you did – still proves that you don't believe in me, and that hurts. After what I have just told you, surely you realize that nothing would alter the way I feel about you? Professor Dumbledore is right – I'm strong and know my own mind, and I know without question that we should be together._

_Please, Severus – tell me where you are, so I can come to you. Being apart from you is killing me, wondering where you are, and what you are feeling._

_I love you, Severus._

_Hermione_

Snape read the letter three times, scrutinizing every word for its full meaning. He knew her voice so well that with her words in front of him, he could hear her, and almost feel her next to him.

Every word that she had written made perfect sense to him, but for one sentence, which stood apart from the rest and rang through his mind over and over again.

'You are a passionate man, but you keep your emotions very tightly under control.'

No, Hermione, he whispered aloud to the empty room. That's just the point. I don't. I can't.

One thing that he had always prided himself on was his control. Without it, he could not have survived his time with the Death Eaters, or his double life between Voldemort and the other side. Fear, pain, anger and disgust had all had to be kept under a tight rein.

Hermione had changed all that. From the moment that he had first reached out to take her into his arms, he had lost that carefully nurtured control. His emotions had taken over from his senses, and they had ruled his life ever since. He had raped her – violated and terrified her. All the control that she accredited him with had gone completely by the wayside when he had felt her warm body in his arms, her lips responding to his, and when he had heard her moaning his name.

Since then, he had been able to reclaim only a little of that control. The night of the fight with Potter, he had managed to keep it in check at first. He had kept himself from smashing that young face, so like his father's, and had held himself back because of Hermione. But as soon as she had gone, his rage had been set loose. Dumbledore had witnessed it, and Hermione had seen the results. Why did that not set alarm bells ringing for her, when she saw the smashed bottles he had thrown? He knew that she had seen them, but she had said nothing. She was far too trusting of him for her own good. She would have been better to run.

But the last incident had terrified him more than anything else ever had. He closed his eyes and thought back to the scene. The two figures close, parting from a kiss. The gentle voice. Snape knew that it had meant nothing. Hermione would never be unfaithful to him, and although he had some small doubts until he heard her confirm it, in his soul he knew that there could be nothing going on. And yet, just for a moment, he had felt that rage again – worse than he could possibly have imagined. It had been burning and consuming – a blaze ripping through mind, body and soul – and he had wanted to lash out. He had wanted to smash everything within his reach, to drive his fists into the walls of the dungeon, to scream out in fury at her betrayal of him. For a terrible second, he had wanted to hurt them – both of them. He had envisioned himself lashing out at her – venting his rage. He had seen himself smashing the head of her supposed lover on the hard stone of the dungeon, and wanted to harm them, the way he had harmed so many during the darker days of his past.

He had even killed in his past. At that moment when his rage had been so intense, would he have been capable of it, he wondered?

The rage had passed him, and he had forced his mind to take control over his emotions, but it was the intensity of the reaction that had terrified him. What if, next time, he was unable to check his anger? What if he allowed himself to play out his momentary visions in the heat of passion, as he had done when he had taken Hermione by force?

If he allowed the relationship to continue, there would be many times when his love for her would drive him to anger. A wrong word that hurt him, or a misunderstanding like the last. What if he was unable to live up to her vision of a man in control? He was capable of great evil and malice – he had proved that in the past – and the only way to protect his beautiful, darling, Hermione, was to make sure that he never again put her in danger from himself. That was the reason they could never be together. He was not a man to be trusted around something so beautiful.

However much misplaced trust Hermione put in him, he could never have so much faith in himself. Knowing that he had harmed her would be worse than the hell he would live without her. He loved her with all his being, and had to protect her from the one man from whom she refused to protect herself.

He held the scroll in his outstretched palm, about to turn it to flame, but at the last second seemed to feel a hand reaching out to stop him.

_"Don't I get a say in this?"_ Hermione's voice whispered into his mind.

He knew what her arguments would be – that even if he had considered harming her, the fact that he managed to control himself showed that he was no longer under the influence of the evil that had once consumed him. It was evidence that he did have the ability to control himself, even if the feelings of violence were still there.

_"I love you, Severus."_ Again, the voice.

She would learn to live without him. It may be painful, at first, but she would get over it. Whether she believed it or not, leaving her would cause her less pain in the end.

_"Our love is worth the risk!"_

Why was she doing this to him, damn it? It was just another example of his lack of control. He knew what he should do, but his emotions would not leave him in peace!

Once again, he held out the scroll, knowing that it was the moment of decision.

If he wanted to ensure her safety from him, he had to convince her of his jealousy – make her hate him – to spare her as much pain as possible. Then he had to find a way to live without her – a way to fill the hole that she would leave in his being.

If he bowed to her wishes – gave in and indulged his own weakness, drew her to him and showed her his love – he would have to live with the consequences. He would have to force his fervent emotions into check, or risk destroying the angel he loved with such burning obsession.

Slowly, his fingers curled around the scroll, and he drew it to his lips. Opening it once again, he read the words, cherishing every sentence of the only love letter he had ever received. His gaze was drawn to the address at the top of the page, then fell on the gift that had lain, untouched, on the table since he had arrived there.

Maybe he still had time to give Hermione her Christmas Present on Christmas Day!


	29. At the Star and Spell

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 29 – At the Star and Spell**

Christmas Day had been a miserable event for Hermione. She had woken early, and lain staring at the ceiling, painfully trying to close her mind against thoughts of Severus, until she had heard others stirring. By the time everyone had arrived on Christmas morning – for only a handful stayed over on Christmas Eve – it was a full house. There were eighteen people in all – herself and her parents, three aunts, each with husbands and children in tow (ranging from three years to seventeen), a bachelor uncle, and one extremely ancient 'aunt' whose relationship to the family Hermione had never quite figured out.

She had played along with the whole present-opening scene, smiling as she received extra copies of books she had read many years ago, and useless ornaments 'to brighten up your room at school, Dear'. The only exception to this, other than the presents from Ron and Harry, which she had already opened upstairs, was the gift from her parents – a small leather-bound book, with her name embossed in gold onto the red cover. The pages were blank, and the clasp could only be opened with a small key.

After opening presents, she had made her excuses and retreated to her room for several hours. Writing the letter to Severus had been painful but therapeutic, and she felt better for it. Summoning an owl, she had made special arrangements for its delivery. She had to make sure it reached him that day, even though she had no clue where the scroll would be going. Not needing to know an address – only an addressee – was a definite advantage of owl post over the muggle variety!

It was Aunt Rose who had noticed her prolonged absence from the commotion downstairs, and had taken it into her head to determine the cause of Hermione's melancholy attitude.

"I'm worried about you, my dear," she said, concerned. "You just don't seem yourself!"

Eventually, Hermione had decided that telling her half the truth – that she had had a disagreement with her boyfriend immediately before Christmas – would suffice. Instead, this made things worse, as Aunt Rose was determined to keep her busy, to prevent her from dwelling on such things. Once Hermione had sent the letter, though, there was nothing she could do but wait, so her aunt's distractions were, in a sense, welcome.

Her parents had also been included in the 'white lie' about her boyfriend. They, too, had seemed concerned about her, and knowledge of a boyfriend seemed to pacify them a little. Since Hermione's leaving to go to Hogwarts, she had been allowed a large amount of freedom about her movements. She was an independently-minded young woman, and it had always seemed to Hermione that her parents refused to challenge her on the basis that they were unsure whether they would win or drive her away. She felt sorry for them, in a way – she was their only daughter, and they clearly felt out of their depth in knowing how to handle her transformation from a gifted and precocious child to a young witch with magical abilities of which they had no understanding. She knew that they cared deeply – but they expressed this by respecting her ability, as did Dumbledore, to make her own decisions.

It was many hours later that Hermione, in the middle of a game of cards with some cousins, received a reply to her owl. She felt it drop, unseen, into her pocket, and pulled out an envelope bearing the words 'Miss Hermione Granger'.

Stepping away from the table, she pulled it open and read the short note carefully.

_Hermione,_

_I am in "The Star and Spell" between the bookstore and the butcher's on the main street. Please come to me._

_Severus._

Giving her parents a brief explanation that her earlier letter had been replied to, she told them that she had to go out to meet him. They didn't look happy at the idea, but accepted it, though insisted on knowing where she was going. There was a brief moment of worry, when Aunt Rose, listening in on the conversation, insisted that there was no such pub as The Star and Spell in the village, but seemed impressed with Hermione's explanation that, unless a muggle knew exactly where it was, and was specifically looking for it, it would go unnoticed. In keeping with wizarding laws about involving muggles in their world, only a few people in Hermione's family, including her Aunt Rose, knew about her magical abilities.

Wrapping her witches cloak about her, she set off into the evening.

The Star and Spell was a small, quiet pub, with clientele that seemed equally happy in either muggle or wizarding world. Stepping inside, Hermione would not even have noticed that it was a magical haven, if not for the owl sitting sleepily on the bar, next to a smiling and waving photograph of the landlord. Other than that, she might have mistaken the place for a regular muggle establishment.

She glanced around at the few occupants as she entered, not seeing Severus. "I'm looking for ..." she began, addressing the landlord, but she did not need to continue. At the far end of the room, previously hidden from sight by the curving bar, Severus Snape stood at the sound of her voice.

For a moment, Hermione stared at her lover, then rushed forward into his arms. "Severus," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're here!"

Severus clearly wanted to talk, but Hermione had more immediate demands. Placing a finger on his lips, she pulled him towards her, kissing him feverishly and making him respond by wrapping his arms around her. Only when she felt him draw her close did she feel that all was well, and gradually released him.

For a long time they said nothing, but, sinking into the secluded corner seats, held each other. Eventually, his hand reached round to her chin, turning her towards him and drawing her lips up to his. He kissed her, then stood, returning from the bar with two Butterbeers, whispering, "We need to talk!"

They talked. Severus could not quite bring himself to tell Hermione all the things on his mind – he would deal with his issues gradually, rather than burdening her with them all at once – but he made sure she knew why he had left so suddenly, and that his only concerns were for her.

"I'm worried about us, Hermione," he told her, "but it feels so right that we're together again."

She had been sitting with her head resting on his shoulder, but now she sat up and reached for her cloak, drawing a package from a pocket. It was wrapped in gray paper, with a silver bow, and she handed it to him with a soft "Merry Christmas, Severus."

He took it with a gentle smile and pulled at the ribbon. The wrapping fell open to reveal a book – black, with silver lettering on the cover. The title on the cover and spine read simply "For Severus". He opened it, and thumbed through the pages. On every sheet, in Hermione's neat hand, were poems and quotes from all kinds of different sources, both magical and muggle. He read the inscription on the first page aloud – "To my darling Severus, with all my love, Hermione."

"They're all things that seemed relevant to us," she smiled. "I've been writing them down for weeks."

Severus seemed to be lost for words. He closed his hands around the book, and stared at the lettering on the front, gently stroking it with his thumb. Dark eyes turned to her with love, and she kissed him. "I thought you'd like it!"

Reaching into his robes, Severus presented her with her own gift. Eagerly, she pulled open the wrappings to find a small blue box. As it lay in her palm, it opened of its own accord, and inside was the most beautiful and unusual pendant that Hermione had ever seen. It was in the shape of a potion bottle – the type that Severus used – made of gold, but with a diamond set in the top, as a stopper. The gold chain was fine, and she picked it up, allowing the pendant to dangle in front of her. Severus' fingers reached out to take it from her hand, and she turned her back to him so he could place it over her head and fasten the clasp at the back.

Again, she took it in her hand, and studied it. "Severus, the diamond is glowing!"

He smiled. "It will glow whenever we are together, my darling." As she gazed at it, she felt tears begin to prick at her eyes, and turned them towards his. Looking into those dark, expressive eyes, that she had once thought so cold, she kissed him, knowing that everything was right with the world.

With all of her attention focused on the man she loved, she did not notice as her parents walked hesitantly into the pub, and looked around for them. Their lips only parted once her parents had moved silently round the end of the bar, and stood facing them as they kissed.

"Hermione!"

Hermione stood at the sound of her mother's voice. Severus was a little more hesitant, rising slowly to his feet at her side. For a second, Hermione seemed to see the scene through her parents' eyes, seeing a strange man kissing their daughter. Oh, no. From their point of view, this probably did not look good.

Severus wore his customary black – not his teaching robes, but still clearly those of a wizard. He was not overly tall, but standing next to her, there was a considerable difference in their heights, which probably made the difference in their ages more apparent. Although he was younger than either of her parents, it was only by a few years, and his stern face and demeanor probably made him seem older to them than he really was. In a classroom, Professor Snape had always had a tremendous 'presence', and this was clear, even in such a different situation as this. Students, including Hermione, had always found him intimidating and, although her parents had a totally different perspective, particularly in the current situation, she suspected that they found him just as much so. They had had very little contact with wizards, and to a couple of muggles, this dark figure must be a menacing sight.

They stared at him, and he gazed levelly back, his stance straight, and his head high. Hermione was used to his manner, but to her parents, he almost certainly seemed proud and aloof – maybe even disdainful of their lack of magic.

Her father finally spoke. "Is this the – boyfriend – you were telling us about, Hermione?"

Oh, God. This was not a good situation. How should she introduce him? Professor Snape? My Potions Master?

"This is Severus," she finally settled on. "Severus Snape. Erm – my parents."

It was such an awkward situation. So formal in the introductions, but with all parties cautious of the others, and no smiles or pleasantries exchanged. Severus twitched, as though beginning to offer his hand, but drew back quickly, and reached for Hermione's fingers instead, behind the folds of his robes.

When he spoke, it was with a soft voice, gentler than she had expected. "I apologize for you finding out like this. It must be rather a shock."

Hermione's father furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "I've heard that name before – but not in the context of a 'boyfriend'. We assumed it must be Harry. We didn't think anyone would mind us coming to say hello." He looked down, noticing the hands clasped together, then his eyes suddenly snapped back to Severus. "Snape – as in 'Professor' Snape?"

Severus bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed."

Now Hermione's mother stepped in. "But – wasn't that the teacher you always used to hate?"

Hermione glanced up at her lover, who raised an eyebrow – the only indication of a slight amusement on his otherwise unreadable features. Gallows humour, it seemed to her, but she couldn't help remembering that Harry had used the same words.

"Erm... yes, but, it's a little different now," she stammered.

Her mother's eyes were stunned, hurt and angry. "So I see," she said, thinly.

There was a slight pause, then Hermione's father removed his hat and coat, dropping them on a seat in the corner. "Well, I suppose we'd better stick around and find out more about this." His voice was grim, but he seemed to be trying to stay calm and civil, for which Hermione was very grateful. Her mother, on the other hand, was looking hostilely at Severus as she followed her husband's example and sat down.

Hermione tried to lighten the tension a little. "Well, if we're going to talk, let's get some drinks." Severus half stood, but Hermione's father was already on his feet, and went to the bar, still close enough to be part of the conversation, but leaving his wife facing the lovers. She was very direct about her feelings.

"I'm disgusted that a teacher would act this way," she said, speaking directly to Severus. "You are in a position of trust and respect, and the fact that you would abuse that trust is appalling." She turned to Hermione. "Is this an example of the standard of behavior in your magic world?"

Severus spoke up. "I didn't intend for this to happen, Mrs. Granger," he told her, defensively. "Neither of us did."

This did nothing to calm her. "What did you do to her?" she demanded. "You must have put her under some... spell!"

"Mum!"

Severus used words that he thought would flatter his love's mother, but Hermione cringed as he spoke, knowing that they would make matters worse. "Your daughter would not be particularly susceptible to that kind of spell, Mrs. Granger, even if I wanted to try," he informed her. "She is a remarkably accomplished witch."

Hermione's parents had always respected her decision to embrace her magic and make it her way of life. At first, they had even been encouraging and supportive, but for the last few years, although they would never actively discourage her, she knew that they were not comfortable with it. Their first real encounter with a wizard was with Arthur Weasley, whom they had liked very much and found to be extremely friendly, if a little overbearing with his persistent demands for information on lawnmowers and central heating. They had then witnessed a public brawl with an extremely unpleasant wizard, and had had to face a terrifying giant by the name of Haggard, or something. Since then, their daughter had been petrified, associated with murderers and werewolves, ridden dangerous flying beasts, almost drowned for some ridiculous game, and that was even before the events of the previous year, which they could barely even think about. Their faith in their daughter's new world had grown less and less, now reaching the point where, Hermione knew, Severus' description of her as an accomplished witch would not be appreciated.

"How old are you, Professor?" Hermione's father had now returned to the table, and addressed Severus sternly.

It suddenly occurred to Hermione that she had never asked him this. It had never seemed important. How old was he? He must be the same age as Harry's parents, so ...

"I'm thirty-seven," he replied. "I know that there's a big age gap between us, but it really doesn't seem to matter to either of us."

Hermione's mother was quite clear on her opinion on this point. "You're far too old for her," she said, as though there could be no other view on the matter. "You should be ashamed of yourself. She's only just gone seventeen."

Severus turned to Hermione. "When was your birthday?" With the realization that they had never discussed it, she also remembered that her own age was something of a complicated matter.

Both at the same time, Hermione said, "February", while her mother said "September."

Now Severus was extremely confused. "I didn't realize I'd asked a difficult question!" he said, puzzled.

"It's not difficult at all," snapped the older woman. She turned to her daughter. "You were born in September, therefore your birthday is September. There's nothing to discuss." Her husband's expression showed that this was a long-running debate, and he sighed resignedly.

Turning to Severus, Hermione explained. "It was a time turner – I used it in my third year to take extra classes," she said. "I clocked up seven extra months that year, so I'm seven months older than I should be." Her mother said nothing, but quietly fumed at this. "Instead of turning seventeen in September, I had already lived for seventeen years by February. It means that I'll be eighteen in a couple of months."

Severus stroked his chin, pensively, as he considered this. "I had no idea."

Unfortunately, Hermione's mother picked up on this, and turned it against him. "So you were carrying on with a student who you thought was... what?... sixteen?"

His response was calm. "As I said, Mrs. Granger, our ages really don't matter to us."

Once again, Hermione's father spoke up. "How can the school allow this?"

Severus sighed. "The Headmaster knows," he said quietly, "and two of Hermione's friends, but that's all." He paused, wondering what their reaction would be about Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore does not approve of this, by any means, but he does accept it, and has agreed not to interfere."

Hermione's mother was outraged. "The headteacher of a school can accept this kind of behavior from a teacher?" she asked incredulously. "It is a disgrace that this could be allowed in a school!"

The argument seemed to continue, from Hermione's point of view, for hours, focusing around the age gap and the fact that Severus was her teacher. Hermione was glad that her parents did not know the full story – of Severus' dark past, and his involvement with the events the previous year – that would have made things ten times worse. Severus controlled his temper but was resentful and defensive. Her father was concerned but quiet – seemingly resigned to accept the inevitable – but her mother was antagonistic and openly hostile. She would never be able to accept Severus, Hermione knew, and it was pointless ever to try to get any kind of peace between them. The best that she could hope for was – as Dumbledore had so succinctly described the relationship between Severus and Sirius – a lack of open hostility. But even that did not look promising right now, although she was relieved to note that Severus was trying his best.

Eventually, Hermione felt that she had to put a stop to things. "Look, it's late," she said. "Aunt Rose and everyone else will be wondering where we've all got to."

But what should she do? It was either back to her aunt's place, where Severus would most definitely not be welcome, or leave now, and go with Severus. She took a deep breath and made her decision. "I think it's best if I go back to Hogwarts, tonight," she said.

Snape looked at her in surprise, but she silenced him with a glance. She could hardly tell them that she was going off to his house in the wilderness for the rest of the holidays!

They all stood. Snape clearly felt that there was one thing he needed to say before they could all part for the night. "Mrs. Granger. – Mr. Granger – I know that this has been a strange night, and that your daughter's relationship with me must have been a shock to you, but please understand one thing. I love your daughter with all my heart. There is nothing more important to me than she. Whatever you think of me – that much you cannot challenge."

Hermione watched her parents' reactions carefully. Her father seemed surprised, but accepting, while her mother tensed at the words – skeptical and mistrusting. Both reactions were as expected, but Hermione could not help but feel that it was just one more nail in the coffin of her relationship with her parents. She caught herself as the thought entered her mind, and berated herself for it. For more than five years, she had spent most of her life away from her parents. Her world had changed, while theirs, her influence aside, had not. It was inevitable that they would drift apart, but it was crucial that she did not allow this to become a rift. Nothing should separate her from them permanently. They were her parents, and she loved them dearly.

As her parents left the pub, she hung back to speak to Severus alone. "I'll pack up my things and be back in about an hour," she told him. "I didn't mean it about Hogwarts, by the way. I want to see your home!"

Briefly, he kissed her and released her, and she set off after her parents. More than anything, she wanted to settle into Severus' arms and sleep. This had been a long night!

It was slightly less than an hour later when Hermione, disgruntled and annoyed, arrived back at the Star and Spell, her small case in hand.

She kissed Severus, fiercely, then muttered, "Let's go."


	30. Together

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 30 – Together**

Getting back to Severus' home was not quite the easy trip for which Hermione had hoped. The first part was easy enough, with a step into the fireplace at The Star and Spell.

"The Happy Kneazle," she said clearly, and stepped out a moment later into a very different pub. This was quite clearly a wizarding pub, she noted, as three house-elves rushed forward to help her from the fireplace, take her cloak and offer her a drink. She cringed at the sight, and firmly declined all offers of help. Severus stepped out of the fire behind her, carrying her case. A sudden thought occurred to Hermione, and she turned to him. "Severus," she asked, "you don't have a house-elf, do you?"

He regarded her solemnly. "Two of them," he told her, "but I locked them in the basement over Christmas, so you wouldn't have to see them."

It took her a moment to see the slightest of twitches at the corner of his mouth, and she rolled her eyes impatiently. Despite her joy at being with Severus, the argument with her parents had left her strained and irritable. Now was not a good time for Severus to develop a sense of humor!

Knowing that her bad mood was aimed at her parents, not at him, she forced herself to take a deep breath.

His hand reached out to her face, and she had to stop herself from flinching irritably at the touch. His expression was concerned. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said. "Bad joke! Don't worry, we don't have far to fly – we'll be there soon, and we can relax."

Fly? Oh, God. She hoped that this was another bad joke! He saw her reaction, and looked worried.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Tears of frustration and tension were beginning to well up inside her, and she fought to keep them back. "I don't fly well."

For a long moment, he stood, looking at her, head tilted to one side, then he stooped to put the case down and reached out to pull her into his arms. Her breathing was ragged as she buried her face into his warm chest. Strong arms were around her, and a hand was stroking her hair. She felt a kiss on the top of her head, and he gently rocked her in his embrace.

When he spoke, his voice was a soothing whisper. "It's okay, my darling," he said softly. "We'll take a carriage." She hugged him, thankfully, feeling embarrassed and foolish for being so upset, but he seemed to understand. It was not often that she felt so young – especially with Severus – but right now she felt like a child, and was content, for once, to have him take care of her.

A few moments later, a carriage, summoned by the house-elves, was pulling up outside the door to The Happy Kneazle, and she allowed herself to be led inside. There, the emotions of the night finally overwhelmed her, and she curled up in Severus' arms and cried. She hadn't realized quite how much the night had disturbed her until she had seen herself reacting so badly to little things like Severus' attempt at humour. She knew that he was puzzled at her behavior, but she could offer no rational explanation. Unable to think straight about anything, she simply cried, letting his strength support her, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

Severus looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. She had been through quite an upheaval lately – first his own terrible treatment of her, then his unbelievably stupid return, which had forced her into a confrontation with her parents that she had clearly not been ready for. He should have done as she had asked in her letter, and told her where he was – let her come to meet him somewhere, instead of throwing himself into the midst of her family Christmas!

The journey by ground was a long one. There was no direct route through the forests, and they had to go a circuitously way round, taking more than an hour, rather than the ten-minute flight he would have preferred. Hermione had cried herself to sleep more than half an hour ago, and now lay, restless and breathing heavily, across his lap. He had wrapped his cloak around them both, and held her tenderly, stroking her hair with his fingers. He had never seen her look so young.

He smiled as she sighed deeply and snuggled closer to him in her sleep. She was by no means a child, and he could never see her as such, but he found it almost – comforting – to see that she had her moments of weakness, as he did. There had been times in their relationship when their roles had been reversed – where he had felt the need of her support and strength – and it seemed only right that he should be able to do the same.

The carriage began to slow, and he finally dragged his eyes away from her face. Trying not to wake her, he carefully took her weight in his arms and slipped to the ground. A nod sent the driverless and horseless vehicle on its way, and another opened the door to his home. The imagery was not lost on him as he carried her through the doorway. Taking her up the stairs, he laid her on his bed, then turned to conjure a fire in the grate.

As he lay next to her, he felt a sigh pass though his whole body. Finally, she was here. He laughed softly at himself – it was not quite the scene of passion and lust that he had imagined for their first night here, but it was still such a wonderful feeling that he could feel his heart beating fast in his chest, and his stomach knotting inside him.

He pulled a blanket over them both and drew her close, snuggling to her warm body, and held her as she slept. Not feeling sleepy himself, he contentedly lay with her in his arms, and eventually, despite his racing mind, her rhythmic breathing lulled him into a sleep of his own.

Hermione woke, feeling relaxed and comfortable. Severus' breath was warm on her neck, and his arm was wrapped protectively around her waist. She thought back to last night, how she had cried for so long in the carriage, and eventually fallen asleep. Vague memories came back to her of being carried to Severus' bed, and his comforting presence while she slept. She still didn't fully understand why the events last night had affected her so emotionally – she had had plenty of arguments with her parents before – but she felt better for her outburst. She felt refreshed and rejuvenated.

In fact, she thought with a smile, I feel wonderful.

Very slowly, so as not to wake Severus, she took his arm from around her waist, and slipped out from under the blanket. Both of them were still fully clothed – clearly, he had not wanted to disturb her at all last night – and she now removed her muggle clothing leaving it crumpled on the floor. Without her next to him, Severus sighed in his sleep, and rolled onto his back.

God, she loved him! The thought came out of nowhere, wanting to make her laugh out loud with happiness. Forcing herself to stay silent, she reached out to pull the blanket from him. Naked, she lay beside him, and began to unfasten his robes. It took a long time to remove his clothing completely, and she had eventually resorted to magic, as the only way to do this without waking him. His clothes lay crumpled on top of hers, and she studied his body with a smile. Reaching out to him, she gently stroked him with her fingertips, feeling him harden under his touch. Remembering the pleasure he had elicited in her, by waking her one morning, she slowly moved to touch him with her lips.

Planting tiny kisses along the length of his hardness, she ran her tongue to the tip, and felt him twitch under her touch. Pulling back slightly, she blew a warm breath over him, enjoying this andfeeling her own excitement rise with every moment. Again, the twitch. She looked up to his face, and saw a smile at the corner of his lips. He was only pretending to be asleep.

"Severus," she smiled. "You're awake!"

He did not open his eyes, but his smile grew wider. "Of course," he said with a smirk. "I've been awake since you first got off the bed."

Giggling, Hermione threw herself up the bed. He groaned as she landed on him, pinning him down. "Sneak!" she accused.

"Well, you seemed to be having so much fun!"

She was straddling him, and leaned forward to kiss him deeply. Wriggling, she moved herself down his body until she felt him at her entrance. She was excited by their playfulness – wet and ready for him – and she could feel him pressing towards her. His hands moved to her hips, trying to push her down onto him.

"So you want me, do you?" she asked him with a giggle. The response was a throaty growl. "Are you growling at me, Severus?"

"You know I am," he rumbled, "and you know I do!"

This game was fun, but teasing him was just as tough on herself, and she eventually had to give in to what her body wanted to do. "Then I guess I'd better do this!" She rolled her hips, and slid herself onto him, sitting fully upright to use her weight, and allowing his hands on her hips to increase the pressure. After all that time apart – the tears, the sleepless nights – it felt so wonderful to feel him inside her once again. Moving her body rhythmically, she felt his hips pushing up against her – pushing himself into her. She pushed back as hard as she could. She wanted this so much – his touch – his beautiful body with hers – his hardness deep within her. As she climaxed, she threw her head back, gripping his arms with her fingers, and calling his name. A moment later, and his powerful thrusts became deeper and more intense, and she felt his release inside her. Their bodies were shaking, and neither of them moved.

"Hermione, that was so beautiful!" he murmured through heavy breaths.

Keeping him inside her for as long as possible, she fell forward onto him, and their sweating bodies held each other. They kissed. "I think I'm going to like staying here," she smiled.


	31. Haven

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

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**Chapter 31 – "Haven"**

"So why aren't you on the Floo Network?"

Hermione and Snape had taken a moment to sit down on their long walk, and gaze across the lake back towards the house. He was telling her about its history, about how long he'd owned it, about the grounds and the lake, and about how he had come to know it by the simple name of "Haven".

"I don't get many visitors," he told her, "and don't usually want them. Anyway – I like to fly!"

Hermione turned to him, thinking about her overreaction to the thought of flying the night before. "Sorry about last night!"

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said softly. "I'm the one who made a mess of things, showing up like that."

Hermione gave a gentle snort of annoyance. "It's not your fault that my parents are narrow-minded and unreasonable," she muttered. "They had to know some time, Severus, and there wasn't an easy way to tell them. That was as good a way for them to find out as any!"

He seemed concerned about this. "I knew that your parents did not understand, but I had no idea that things were so bad! I suppose from their point of view, I couldn't be any worse – being so much older than you, and a wizard, and a teacher!"

"It was quite funny when my Dad asked how old you were, and I suddenly realized that I didn't know, myself!"

Snape frowned. "Twenty years is a big age gap. By the time you're thirty, I'll be fifty!"

Hermione couldn't help laughing. "I thought that our ages weren't important!" she teased. She suddenly turned serious, thinking of something. "So, I guess that means ... " her stomach gave a jolt and she hesitated. " ... I guess we're thinking of 'us' as a long term thing, then!"

Severus' eyes met hers, completely serious. "I can't stand to think about a day of my life without you!"

He leaned forward to kiss her, but she put a hand on his chest and held him back. "But ... you left me, Severus."

The pain on his face was unbearable, but Hermione fought against her reaction to pull him close to her. His eyes closed, and his head tilted back. She waited while he took a deep breath, then forced his eyes back to hers.

"Hermione," he said, hoarsely, "the reasons that I left still apply. I told you that I couldn't bear the possibility of hurting you. That's what was ... is ... tearing me apart. I'm not in control of my emotions – you've done that to me. I thought that it would be better for me to be the one in pain by not letting myself be near you, than to risk hurting you. It seems selfish that I chose to take the risk of hurting you because I can't bear to be parted from you, but ... it wasn't right for me to be the only one making that decision."

She had heard his reasons for leaving, in the pub the night before, but somehow – needed to hear them again. Needed to know that he meant them and that he knew how much it had hurt her when he left. "Promise me, Severus – that you'll never shut me out like that again." Romantic or not, she knew that things could go wrong in a relationship – that 'forevers', however wonderful they sounded, could not always be real – but the thought of being shut out of a decision like that, especially one that was made to protect her, was agonizing.

Hands reached to cup her face, and his eyes burned with pain and regret. "I swear it," he whispered. "And I mean it – that I can't bear the thought of living without you. I'm not just thinking about when you're thirty – I'm thinking about when we're both old and wrinkly!"

"Closer in your case, than mine!" Hermione couldn't resist the joking comment, but her lover's eyes were still serious. He kissed her, then stood, pulling her to her feet.

"I might remind you, Ms. Granger," he told her in a low voice, "that, despite the fact that this is the holidays, I could still deduct points from Gryffindor for insolence like that!"

She matched her tone to his, and played along. "Sorry, Professor Snape. " Then, slyly, "Wouldn't you prefer to give me a detention?" He narrowed his eyes and growled at her, then they continued on their walk in silence for a while.

The December sky was overcast and grey, but the air was crisp and they could see for a long way as they walked. There were several points where small streams ran into or out of the lake, and one spot where the water was shallow but wide, and they had to go a long way into the woods to reach an area of natural stepping-stones where they could cross.

"Speaking of school, Ms. Granger," Severus began suddenly, "and... us ... I've had an idea." He squeezed her hand as they walked. "You are not as much of a dunderhead as my other students, and it might make things easier on us both ... and maybe on Professor Dumbledore ... if you were to take your Potions N.E.W.T. a year early."

Hermione turned to him in surprise. It was an amazing idea! "Do you think I'll be ready?" she asked, excited at the prospect, but aware of the amount of extra work involved.

He answered her with a question. "What would be the effect of adding Hupcus Root to a sleeping draught?"

She thought for a moment, then answered, "It would counteract the soothing agents, and probably produce terrible nightmares."

"Very good. What would be the most likely antidote to a poison using a natural snake venom as the main ingredient?"

Again, some thought, then, "Use the same venom, but prepare a mixture using equal amounts of a reversing agent, such as powdered Fwooper feathers, or gnome skin."

The Potions Master regarded his student with interest. "Those are not things I have taught you, Hermione," he told her. "They are things you had to deduce from your knowledge of the properties of each substance." Hermione couldn't help but glow at his praise. "You are more ready than many of my final year class."

They discussed the subject as they walked, and Hermione became more and more convinced of the merits of the idea, and of her own ability to do well in the exam. They agreed that Severus would ask the headmaster's permission and, of course, the Head of Gryffindor house would need to approve, if Professor Dumbledore agreed. Hermione also insisted that Severus arrange for someone else to mark her paper. Severus would be completely objective, naturally, but that would be difficult for others to accept, once everything came out in the open.

It was in the middle of all this discussion about Potions, that Hermione suddenly stopped dead. Severus' face mirrored the worry on hers as he asked quickly what was wrong. She couldn't speak for a moment, then, "Severus – the spell. The one that Slytherin put on the dungeon ... " She didn't need to say more – by the look on Severus' face, she knew he had understood. Clearly, he had given it just as little thought as she.

It was a tense moment, but Hermione felt an instant of half guilt, half puzzlement, that her reaction was not the overwhelming panic that she somehow felt she should feel. Slowly, Snape drew her to him, and they stood, their arms around each other, as they both considered the implications. The warmth of Severus' body was solid and comforting as they stood in that gentle embrace.

After several minutes' silence, he told her softly, "I can create a potion that will take care of it for while we're here. As for this morning ... I don't think there's anything to be done about that. We'll just have to wait."

He pulled back slightly, and kissed her, then they fell back into their silent embrace for a while longer. When they continued walking, each felt that there had been much more unspoken about the subject than spoken, but neither could seem to put it into words.

As Hermione took the small vial to her lips several hours later, she smiled at him. "I don't ever remember drinking a potion you've prepared, before," she told him. "I just hope that you're as good a potion-brewer as you are a theorist and teacher!"

He reached out to take the empty tube from her as she screwed up her face at the foul taste. "Well, it's not a potion I'm too familiar with, but you will probably survive!" He pulled her into his arms, and kissed her, tasting the remnants of the potion on her lips. Then, without warning, he scooped her up into his arms. "And now that you've drunk it," he continued, "it would seem a shame not to take advantage!"

Neither of them mentioned their carelessness throughout the rest of the Christmas holiday, although it was on each of their minds often during the time. Both were resolved to wait to find out the consequences, and in the meantime, they reflected on the possibilities with mixed feelings. Neither felt that it was likely that Hermione was pregnant, though could not explain why, nor their reluctance to discuss the subject in too much depth.

These thoughts aside, the holidays were wonderful for both of them. Many hours were spent walking in the snow, or sitting by the fire, talking or reading.

It's such a peaceful, quiet house, Hermione thought happily, as she snuggled in her lover's arms. This is the perfect place to get away from everything.

They also used the time for Severus to teach Hermione the spell for invisibility. Much to her disappointment, she found it far more difficult than she had expected. Concentrating hard, she could sustain the effect for only a few minutes, and it took her until the end of the holidays to be able to become truly invisible. During her early attempts, her teacher was still able to find her by the faint outline she left.

By the time they had to leave to return to Hogwarts, Hermione felt that Severus' home was the most wonderful place she had ever seen. The atmosphere totally absorbed her, and she could have happily stayed there forever.

Their last night together in their sanctuary was pure magic – an evening walk in silvery moonlight, and a relaxed supper by the fire. Making love in Severus' large bed was at once tender and loving, but intense and passionate. They lay together afterwards, holding each other close – warm bodies pressed together, and hearts joined.

As they drifted into sleep, Hermione heard Severus' mumbled voice. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Have I ever mentioned that I love you?"

She nuzzled her head into his shoulder. "Once or twice."

"Just checking." She was almost asleep when his voice came again. "You know, whatever happens ... " he placed a hand on her stomach, "... it will be okay!"

Placing a hand on his, she murmured. "I love you, Severus."

They slept.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione threw herself at the ball of fur that was waiting for her on her return.

Ron and Harry jumped up to welcome her as she stepped into the Gryffindor common room.

"You're earlier than we expected," said Ron. "The train won't arrive until tonight. Crookshanks seemed to know you were coming, though. He's been prowling all morning!"

Hermione and Severus had arrived back at Hogwarts at around midday the day before school started again, having traveled by coach, then Floo Powder. She knew that this would probably need some explanation for her friends, and she had already decided to tell them as much of the truth as she thought she could. Now was as good a time as any, and without even bothering to take her things to her room, she dropped into a chair. Crookshanks jumped onto her lap, and she sat stroking him as she told them about Severus' sudden disappearance just before the holidays, his arrival in the village where her aunt lived, and their stay at the aptly named "Haven". The only things she left out, in the end, were the fact that they had originally planned to spend the whole holiday together, and the worrying thoughts about their carelessness on the day after Christmas.

On hearing Snape's suggestion that she take her Potions N.E.W.T. a year early, they were at first skeptical, on the grounds that she would probably overwork herself, to prepare for it, but gradually came round to the idea. They didn't seem to think that there was much that would improve the teacher / student situation between herself and Snape, but she was so keen on the idea that they could hardly disapprove.

They were also very interested in the argument with her parents and, although she knew that they felt for her, they couldn't help also siding somewhat, with her parents' point of view. Well – they were entitled to their opinion, she thought, as long as they also respected her privacy and her right to love whomever she chose! In a sudden fit of emotion, she hugged each of them for their understanding, and left them standing, a little puzzled, as she headed to her room to unpack her things.

Malcolm Baddock sunk back into the shadows of the dungeon as Hermione Granger hurried passed him. She hadn't seen him as he had been about to head up the steps into the main school, and he had quickly stepped out of the passage, to ensure that it remained that way.

From the darkness of a doorway, he watched her slipping up the stone steps. The train had not yet arrived, bringing back the students who had left for the holidays, and he was certain that the Gryffindor had not been there over Christmas. And yet, here she was, suitcase in hand, heading from the Potions corridor the day before term started ...

He glanced thoughtfully down the corridor she had just left, then turned and headed pensively back towards the common room. As his Slytherin mind considered the possibilities, his lips began to form a contemplative smile.


	32. Back to School

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

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**Chapter 32 – Back to School**

Most of the first few days of term were spent catching up on all the events of the Christmas holidays. Hermione learned all about Ron and Harry's efforts to find the hidden tunnels, which had been discouraging. After exploring the dungeon from corner to corner, they were beginning to believe that the legend of tunnels to caverns under the lake was simply fantasy.

"You give up too easily," Hermione told them. "If you've explored everywhere, then maybe there more magic concealing the entrance. It has to be documented somewhere."

But neither of the boys looked particularly keen on the idea of more research. "The only area we've not been back to fifteen times," Ron told her, "is where we saw the Bloody Baron, and if that's where it is, I'm not so sure I want to find it!"

They also told Hermione about their exploits with Marmaduke.

"It was Crookshanks who eventually got it out from under Hagrid's bed," Harry explained. "Came down to Hagrid's with us, went straight towards the bed, and Marmaduke ran for the door! It was so fast that we still couldn't tell what it was. Hagrid was really upset about it – kept looking outside and worrying about where 'poor Marm' was going to sleep that night!"

Hermione laughed. "I bet Fang was happy, though!"

Ron snorted. "Yeah! When we finally got the great coward to come out of hiding. He's more scared of Crookshanks than he was of Marmaduke!"

It was pleasant to spend time with her friends. Lately, even before Christmas, Hermione had been spending so much time with Severus, that she had missed them. Whatever happened between herself and her lover, she was determined that nothing should spoil the friendships that she had developed over the past five years, with Ron and Harry. They had been through a lot together, and they were two of the most wonderful and kind people she knew.

As she sat, laughing, with them in the common room, she made herself a new year's resolution – to make certain that nothing could come between them.

"Midget Gems!"

Snape had never quite understood the headmaster's fascination with muggle confectionary, and always found the passwords to his office difficult to remember. This had been his third attempt at remembering the name of Dumbledore's latest favourite, and much to his relief, the entrance gave way to him.

At the top of the stairs, he knocked, entering when he heard the headmaster's voice.

"Ah, Severus! Come in. Come in! Have a Midget Gem." He offered Snape a small bag, which was politely refused.

The Potions Master sat, at Professor Dumbledore's gesture towards a chair, and came straight to the point. "Headmaster, I wanted to make a request – to allow Hermione Granger to take her Potions N.E.W.T. a year early." His piece said, he then waited in silence for a response.

The older wizard was rummaging in the bag of sweets, and it took a few minutes for him to answer, although whether this was because he was considering the request carefully, or simply trying to find his favourite colour, was not quite clear. Finally, he gave a simple "I see!" Severus once again waited.

At last, Dumbledore popped a green sweet into his mouth and sat back in his chair, hands clasped on the desk in front of him, gazing thoughtfully at the teacher. When he spoke, it was not about the exam.

"You left the school rather suddenly at the end of term, Severus," he said. "I assume that the fact that you have had the opportunity to discuss this with the young lady in question means that your premature departure from the school was a 'misunderstanding'."

Snape gave a single nod, reluctant to discuss his motives in too much detail.

Dumbledore clearly expected more than this, but when it was clear that it would not be forthcoming, he continued. "I was under the impression that Miss Granger went home for Christmas."

"Her plans changed, headmaster," Snape's tone was low and guarded – a fact that did not seem to go unnoticed.

"I see." He sighed, resignedly. "This must put her in an awkward situation with her parents. If they knew ... "

Snape interrupted him, quietly. "They know," he rumbled, frowning at the memory.

The details of the conversation were not important, but Snape gave Dumbledore the gist of the dialogue. Throughout the explanation, the headmaster began to look more and more concerned about the situation. It did not surprise him that Hermione's parents had not contacted him to complain. For several years, he had suspected that the girl's parents' feelings about the wizarding world were less than warm, so it was no shock that they placed little faith in the results of a complaint to the headmaster of Hogwarts.

Standing, he began to pace up and down his office. "I don't like this situation, Severus. It is a mess, and I am beginning to regret my decision not to step in earlier and put a stop to this." He stopped and stared at the wizard on the other side of the desk. "I hope that this sudden wish for Miss Granger to take her exam early is not so that you can make your relationship public once you are no longer her teacher!"

Snape started. "I have no desire for my private life to become a public concern!' he growled. Then he reconsidered, a little, and softened his voice. "Yes," he admitted, "that is a part of it – but even without making this public, surely you agree that it would make the situation less ... dangerous?"

The headmaster was not easily swayed. "She will still be a student at this school! Whether you are her teacher or not will make little difference."

Dumbledore began to pace once again, and Snape waited in silence. Finally, the suggestion seemed to have been considered, and Dumbledore turned.

"I will allow Miss Granger to take her exam early, Severus, as I believe that she is more than capable of it. However, I still have grave misgivings about the whole situation." He fixed Snape with a penetrating gaze, regarding him for a long moment, then sat once again at his desk. "I will bring up the subject with Minerva – her permission, as head of Gryffindor, will be required for Hermione to take the N.E.W.T. early."

Snape stood. "Thank you, Headmaster. I will inform Ms. Granger."

Once outside the door, he allowed himself a sigh of relief. Things between himself and Dumbledore were definitely strained lately, and he knew that he was putting the wizard in a difficult situation. It was not a comfortable state of affairs, but it could not be helped. Hermione was his love – his life – and well worth a few strained relationships!

Ron breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the common room. "Finally," he told Harry and Hermione, "I've got my project drafts handed in. Just dropped them off at the staffroom."

Hermione gave him a long-suffering look of 'well you should have finished before Christmas', but wisely managed to avoid saying it aloud.

"It's not my fault," Ron countered, noticing the look. "I just about had it ready, but I wanted to add in the extra information I got from Charlie over Christmas about dragon eggs!"

Harry handed him a chocolate frog. "I'm not sure that encouraging Hagrid is the right thing to do!" he laughed. "He'll probably have another go at getting Dumbledore to let you have a real dragon!"

"Probably!" Ron quickly grabbed his frog as it tried to jump over his shoulder. "By the way, Hermione, I ran into Ginny on the way to the staffroom. It looks like Alistair Baddock hasn't given up on you yet!"

Hermione was puzzled by this news. She hadn't seen much of Alistair, but he had managed to smile a 'hi' as they had passed in the corridor the other day. "Why, what have you heard?"

"Well, nothing about Alistair, actually, but Ginny says his little brother was asking about you!" Ron relayed Ginny's account of the conversation. Malcolm had approached her in the library, and been very friendly (" ... which is suspicious in itself," said Ron), asking her about her Christmas, whether she had spent it with her family – whether Ron, Harry and Hermione had gone home. Ginny had been very wary of the Slytherin, but he had seemed friendly enough, so she'd tried to be pleasant. She had got the feeling, according to Ron, that Malcolm had been asking on his brother's behalf.

Naturally, Ginny knew nothing about Hermione's real reason for not wanting to go out with Alistair, and had seen no reason to be too evasive. "Alistair's a nice guy," she had told her brother. "I don't really understand why he's in Slytherin, although with Malcolm it's obvious. He gives me the creeps!"

Hermione didn't understand why Malcolm would be asking about her, when she had already told Alistair she was seeing someone else. "I wonder why Alistair would get his brother to do that?" she asked her friends. "I hope he's not still thinking I might go out with him, because it's not going to happen!" But, no – Alistair had seemed okay about things when they had passed each other a few days earlier – it was probably nothing. She dismissed the conversation as nothing to worry about, and thought no more about it.

She had other things on her mind than whatever Alistair Baddock's little brother was up to. She had made up her mind, the day term started again, that she did not want to wait to find out if the Christmas carelessness would have serious repercussions, and had determined to go to see Madam Pomfrey.

Several times, since making that decision, she had headed in the direction of the Hospital Wing, but each time it seemed to be crowded. It was crucial that no-one know she had even been there, as it would not take long for Ron and Harry to put two and two together.

It was a few days after returning to school that Hermione finally got the chance to talk to the matron. Cautiously, she stepped inside the Hospital Wing and looked around, checking that no-one was around.

Madam Pomfrey looked up from where she was tidying the shelves of spare sheets and pillows, and smiled as she entered. "Miss Granger. I've not seen you for a while – come in!"

Hermione gave her a half smile, which the matron interpreted correctly as troubled. "I wanted to ask for your advice, Madam Pomfrey," she said quietly.

The older witch's manner was immediately kind, but business-like. "Then why don't we step into my office?" Once seated, she continued, facing Hermione, "Now what can I do to help you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath. Madam Pomfrey was always discreet, but there was still a part of the student that was nervous about saying this to a teacher. What if this got out? But, reflected Hermione, if she told anyone, it would probably be Professor Dumbledore, and he already knows more than Madam Pomfrey does.

Now that she was faced with the possibility of a quick and definite answer to her question, she also found herself extremely nervous about hearing the truth. Either result would have its own implications, and she was not entirely sure how she felt about them. Her mind was telling her that having a baby would be disastrous, with exams coming up – whether this year or next – and at her young age. There was also a part of her, though, that couldn't help liking the idea of having Severus' baby. It was a possibility that she hadn't wanted to think about too much – it was an entirely emotional response, and she was more used to logic and thought – but now that she was face to face with Madam Pomfrey, it was forced to the front of her mind. What answer was she hoping for, she wondered?

Well, you're not going to find out if you don't ask, she chided herself. Just do it, and deal with the answer one way or another.

Resolved, she spoke. "I think I might be pregnant," she said simply.


	33. Questions and Answers

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

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**_Author's Note_**

_I feel I need to add a note, here, to remind readers that this story is a completed work, written in 2001/2002, which I am re-uploading. Much as I would like to claim credit for writing everything already uploaded in two days, I'm afraid that even when I'm writing (which I'm not at the moment, due to illness), I'm not that fast!_

_Thanks for the reviews - I always love reading them. I'm uploading a few chapters at a time, as I have a couple of formatting adjustments I have to make to some chapters, but I should have the whole thing (51 chapters)uploaded in the next few days!_

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**Chapter 33 – Questions and Answers**

Snape had never enjoyed the few days after Christmas, and this year was no exception, although the reasons were somewhat different from usual. The excitement of the holidays took a long time to wear off, and the students were always restless. With his strong teaching style, he had no trouble in subduing them, of course, but getting their minds truly on their work was no easy task. This was added to by his own thoughts of the holidays – his terrible days alone, the letter from Hermione, their perfect time together and, naturally, the still unanswered question of whether or not Hermione was pregnant. Not a state of mind particularly conducive, he thought, to driving home the finer principles of the delicate art of potion brewing to a bunch of adolescent incompetents!

He had received all three of the sixth-year Potions project drafts, and reviewed them with interest. Bale and Gem had done some exceptional work on poisons and antidotes, and their draft showed some promising results. He had called them both into his office, and given them carefully restrained praise for their efforts, along with some stern words about the areas where they needed to improve, and a warning about ensuring that their work was unique. "If I find that your final reports are simply re-phrasing each other," he told them, "I shall assign a percentage for the whole project, and split the marks between you both!"

He reflected for a moment on the way that he spoke to students. He had always been severe on them, and had found it to be an effective approach. It made them want to work hard to avoid scorn and criticism. True, it terrified some of them, such as Longbottom, to the point where they were barely able to function in the class, but these were few and far between, and it did them good. The world was a tough place, and if they couldn't cope with an overbearing teacher, how would they cope in the harsh reality that was life? Whatever other people – even Hermione – thought about it, his style of teaching worked. Alex Bale and Thomas Gem stood in front of him as he gave them his comments on their work, heads held high, and confident in themselves. The ones that had the sense enough to learn knew when he was pleased with them. The others struggled along acceptably, and for the worst – well, for every Neville Longbottom, there was a Hermione Granger to whisper instructions. He made sure that they never sat too far apart!

As for Hermione's project – it was excellent, of course, but somehow it lacked the energy that he had expected. Technically, it was faultless, although it did sway heavily on the side of Potions, with little emphasis put on the Historical aspects, but he had been expecting more impact – more of her enthusiasm to come through. He would have to talk to her about that. In the meantime, the person he needed to see first about it was Professor Binns. He had received his own copy, and their comments back to the student would have to cover both subjects. He set off for the staffroom, to find him in his usual chair by the fire. They discussed Hermione's results, and agreed where she needed to focus her work. Definitely more research needed on the history side – probably a deeper analysis of whether the wizards in question were developing truly unique approaches, or were simply continuing earlier work. Snape almost smiled at the uncharacteristic enthusiasm Binns showed in the project. It seemed that Hermione was one of the few students who took a genuine interest in the History of Magic, and it was unusual to see the ghost acting as though he were not dead, for once.

Snape turned to leave the staffroom, but stopped as Professor McGonagall entered. "Ah, Severus. Just the wizard I wanted to see," she smiled. "May we talk?"

"Of course." They moved to two armchairs at the side of the staffroom, and sat, Severus wondering what this would be about. Probably nothing, he told himself. Just House business – nothing to do with Hermione Granger!

"It's about Hermione Granger," began McGonagall, dashing his theory to the rocks.

Snape managed to get some impatience into his voice. "What about her, Minerva?"

McGonagall faced him squarely, clearly showing some puzzlement. "Albus told me of your wish to put her in for her Potions N.E.W.T. a year early, and I was curious as to your reasons."

He fielded this with a question. "Don't you think she's ready for it?" he asked her, knowing that she could give only one answer.

"Of course she's ready, Severus," came the quick reply, " but over the years that you have been teaching here, there must have been plenty of other students who would also have qualified. What is so special about Miss Granger?"

Everything was special about her - the way she smiled, her hair in the sunlight, the touch of her hands on his bare skin, the sighs of pleasure as they made love. He caught himself, and forced his thoughts back to the conversation. He could go on for hours about what was so special about Miss Granger, but that probably wasn't what her head of house meant!

He steepled his fingers together in front of him, hoping that whatever he said would sound completely professional and logical as an explanation. "Ms. Granger is an exceptional student, Minerva, and you know that I am not one to over exaggerate the competencies of a student. Not only does she have ability far beyond anyone I have ever taught, she also has a genuine 'feel' for Potions. She understands the mystery and the art, and I do not feel that I could, with conscience, hold her back."

McGonagall considered this, thoughtfully. "I don't doubt that," she said, "but why should that imply she should take the test early? Surely, she would be better to remain in the class to continue learning, even if she is well beyond the rest of the year?"

Damn! She did have a point about this. "Ms. Granger is no longer learning much in my class," he stated, truthfully. "There is little value in a lesson that cannot challenge an agile mind, and I cannot give her that challenge without taking time from the rest of the class. If she chooses to pursue her Potions studies after completion of her N.E.W.T., which I am confident she will do, then I would be more able to challenge her by involving her in more complex subjects."

"Are you suggesting independent research during her final year?"

Why was she interfering like this, he wondered, irritably. "I am suggesting that she take the exam at the point when she is ready for it, and that she decides on the further direction, when the time comes!"

McGonagall at last seemed to accept this, even if she was not completely satisfied with the answer. Once Dumbledore had agreed, there was little for McGonagall to do but accept, but he supposed he couldn't question her wish to protect the interests of the woman he loved.

After a long pause, the deputy Headmistress smiled, and said, "Very well. I see no reason why Miss Granger should not be permitted to continue, if this is what she wishes."

"Thank you, Minerva," he replied, trying his best not to sound too cold. Whatever happened in the future, maintaining civility now would likely make life easier. He nodded to the Professor, stood from the chair, and left the staffroom.

- - -

At the same time that Snape was heading back to his office, Hermione was facing a serious looking Madam Pomfrey.

"Pregnant, Hermione?" the witch was asking her, surprised. "I admit that you are not someone I would have expected to be having this conversation with." Hermione said nothing, looking down at her lap, and Madam Pomfrey continued. "When do you think it might have happened?"

Hermione told her that it had been two weeks previously. It suddenly occurred to her that the Matron did not know that she knew about the spell on Hogwarts, and it was crucial that she play along and pretend to be ignorant of this. Only a teacher could have told her, so she had to keep this information to herself.

The inevitable lecture began, as Madam Pomfrey stood to rummage in a cupboard for something. It was all the things that Hermione had expected – relationships not to be taken lightly, should wait, if possible, take appropriate precautions if you must, disappointed in Hermione's behavior, usually such a sensible girl – and she listened on the grounds that she had little choice. Throughout the lecture, Hermione was more interested in watching the matron than listening to her. She had eventually found a small box, which she brought back to the desk with her. She took out what looked like an old fashioned watch on a chain, and dangled it in front of her, then she instructed the girl to lay on the little table she had in the office. Holding the device above Hermione's stomach, she muttered a complex spell, the words of which, Hermione could not pick out.

Hermione held her breath as the 'watch' was held for several minutes, then examined carefully. At Madam Pomfrey's instruction, she sat up and returned to her chair by the desk. Madam Pomfrey sat opposite her, a somber expression on her face.

"Well, Hermione," she began. "I'm sure you will be pleased to know that you are not pregnant."

It took a long time for Hermione fully to register this information. Not pregnant! The emotions that hit her were unclear, but the overwhelming feeling she got was simply that, good or bad, at least now she knew.

Thanking Madam Pomfrey, Hermione got up to leave, but the matron had other plans. Because the spell around Hogwarts was totally secret, there was no way that Madam Pomfrey could tell Hermione about it, so the girl realized that they would both have to keep up the pretence. The lecture was far from over, and it was almost another hour before Hermione was finally able to escape. For a moment, her guard had almost slipped when she was asked what form of protection had been used except for the day when they 'forgot'. She had been on the point of saying that they had prepared a potion, but the matron would know that the potions were so difficult, and that not all of the ingredients were easily available. Thinking quickly, Hermione did the best thing all round, and told the older witch that that had been the only time, and that he wasn't even a Hogwarts student. This seemed both to pacify her a little and worry her at the same time – on the one hand, there was relief that the student was not in an ongoing sexual relationship, but this also implied that the event had been entered into without much thought or even in a steady relationship.

Finally, Hermione managed to escape the Hospital Wing, and her feet led her straight to the dungeon.

- - -

Snape held the woman he loved in his arms, and kissed the top of her head. She was trembling, and he embraced her tightly, as though trying to absorb the shakes into himself. She wasn't pregnant. She had arrived ten minutes earlier, and headed straight for his arms. The news had been whispered into his chest, and since then they had remained together, simply holding each other.

The relief was strong. He had been so worried for her – now was not the time for her to get pregnant. She had exams coming up, whether in a few months or a year, and with the problems with her parents, her friends, the fact that they were still loving each other in secret – it would have been all wrong. No – not all wrong – there would have been something perfectly right about Hermione carrying his child, but not right now.

"Someday, my darling, we are going to have beautiful children," he whispered gently, "but it will be when the time is right." He felt her nod against his chest, and sighed deeply.

Lovingly, he stroked her back, enjoying the feeling as she relaxed into him. As her body pressed against him, he felt his excitement grow. A few moments later, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed.

- - -

Severus studied Hermione's naked body as she slept beside him. Soon, he would have to wake her, so she could get back to Gryffindor tower, but for now she was all his. He traced the lines of her body with his eyes – her soft face, those tender breasts, smooth skin – his gaze fell on the pendant he had given her for Christmas. It lay against her chest, glowing softly, and he smiled. Thinking of that had been a moment of inspiration, and he knew how much she loved it.

He would not be seeing her that evening, and he thought, regretfully, about the fact that he had to last the whole day without her. He woke her with a kiss, and she stretched luxuriously as she stirred. The arching movement of that lithe, supple body made his own respond quickly and visibly. Leaning over her, he pressed his hardness against her thigh, and she smiled at the touch.

"I can tell you're wide awake this morning," she whispered.

By the time he fell into bed, alone, that night, he would look back on this moment and reflect that making love to Hermione that morning had been the only good thing that had happened to him all day.


	34. Baddock

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 34 – Baddock**

Snape's first class of the day was with the third year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Why Minerva would persistently choose to timetable the two houses together he couldn't fathom. It caused more problems than anything else in the school, and had done for years.

This particular group was worse than most, and he knew that it was going to be a hell of a class even as they walked into the room. Natalie McDonald was a pathetic, sniveling little Gryffindor, who was one of the most abysmally incompetent students he had to teach. She rivaled Longbottom in her complete inability to carry out a simple task without creating mayhem – adding the wrong amount of an ingredient, allowing the cauldron to overheat, accidentally substituting the wrong powder – always with disastrous results. His heart sank as he considered the prospect of another botched potion, and the inevitable need for a reversal of whatever effects she managed to produce this time. What he hated about her, more than her incompetence, however, was her manner. The slightest thing would make her eyes fill up with tears, and a word from him was enough to make her tremble.

He watched her as she entered the classroom. Judging by the state of her face, she had already been crying, and a glance at the boys who entered behind her told him the cause. Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard were wearing their usual sneers as they arrived – no doubt over whatever had happened outside. Well, it hadn't happened in his classroom, and he wasn't going to ask. He told himself that he allowed these things to go unnoticed, in order to strengthen her character, and it was partially true, but he knew that there was a part of him that sympathized with the two boys. Of all the things he loathed, weakness was the worst. He hated it in himself, and he hated it in others. McDonald needed and deserved the lessons she learned from her Potions classes – from being forced to deal with both the students and the teacher.

By the third year, there was no longer any need to ask for silence as the class filed in – they knew his requirements on that all too well. Books out, they turned to the chapter on silencing potions, at his instruction, and listened attentively as he began to explain their preparation and applications. All, that was, except for Baddock. Snape frowned, as he watched the boy fumbling in his bag for something, then turn to Pritchard to whisper something to him. Unusual behavior for the boy. He coughed to get his attention, and continued, but a moment later, Baddock was turning again, this time to Dennis Creevey. Creevey gave a quick frown and shake of his head as he tried to continue listening to the teacher, and Snape used this moment to step in.

"Creevey," he said icily, "as you do not seem to feel the need to pay attention, perhaps you could explain to the class the importance of using exactly the correct amount of Shrivelfig in this potion?"

Creevey looked livid, but simply answered "I'm sorry, Sir. Baddock was talking to me."

Snape snapped back quickly, "I don't want to hear your excuses, Creevey. A point from Gryffindor." He continued with the lesson, watching Baddock out of the corner of his eye.

Throughout the lesson, Baddock continued to cause trouble, throwing extra beetle wings into McDonald's potion, and spilling ink all over Grey's bag. Snape had a feeling that there was more to this than a wish to cause trouble for the Gryffindors – it was something about the way that Baddock kept catching his eye, defiantly. It was normal for the Slytherins to cause as much trouble as possible for the other house, but unusual for this to be done openly. Snape, by necessity, treated the Slytherins very differently from other students – and not because of any misplaced loyalty to the house. But there was always a semblance of fair play – and for a Slytherin to be behaving like this in full view of him was curious, almost as though he wanted to leave Snape no choice but to punish him.

This became more obvious towards the end of the lesson. He had instructed the class to clear away their things, while the potions cooled, and was watching them carefully. As he glanced at Baddock, the boy's eyes were on him, as though waiting for him to look that way, and he calmly and deliberately nudged a bottle of leech juice off the edge of the desk and onto the floor, where it smashed.

"Clean that up, Baddock!" Snape snarled, wondering what the undoubtedly devious motive was, behind the boy's actions. The student's eyes had not left his own, and he regarded him rebelliously for a few moments more before turning away with a faint sneer. Whatever was going on, Snape decided, it was time to deal with it, and the easiest way would be to play the boy's game. One more insolent look was all Snape needed before, still puzzled, he growled "Mr. Baddock. Detention. Eight o'clock."

The rest of the class looked understandably surprised. There had been almost no verbal communication between them throughout the lesson, and no one else seemed to have noticed the exchanges between student and teacher. Baddock said nothing, turning his back on the teacher with a faintly smug attitude that left Snape with many questions on his mind.

For now, though, it was back to the class. The potions were ready to try, and he had already picked his test subjects. "McDonald," he drawled, "bring forward your potion. Quickly, girl!" The Gryffindor stepped forward with the liquid carefully bottled. She looked terrified, and he mockingly reassured her in a soft but carefully calculated voice. "Don't worry, we're not going to test it on you. We're going to test it on Creevey!"

At this, Creevey stepped forward, but McDonald stepped in front of him. For the first time he could remember, she looked him in the eye, tiny though she was. "I'll test it," she said firmly. Inside, Snape felt a glow of satisfaction. Finally – she had stood up to him. When she needed to, she could dig down and find that strength – if only he could build on that! He took the smile that was threatening to escape him, and twisted it into a sneer.

"It seems that you have an admirer, Creevey," he smirked. "And one with little confidence in her own potion-making abilities!" Creevey glowed red, but the blood had already drained from the tiny girl's face. Her lack of confidence was perfectly justified, considering her ineptitude, but in this case he had watched carefully throughout the lesson, to make sure every step had been perfect. Grey had even whispered the effective remedy for Baddock's interference, so he knew that the mixture was safe. Dumbledore was already displeased with him, he thought, wryly, poisoning a student would not help matters!

The potion worked perfectly, and the Slytherins laughed at the sight of the girl clutching at her throat and trying to speak, with no sound coming out. He knew that the effect of the potion was extremely uncomfortable, and he watched in mild satisfaction and with a hint of respect, as McDonald bore it well, before sipping the pre-prepared antidote.

From that point of view it had been an effective lesson, but the behavior of Baddock was a mystery. Now that the boy's objective had been achieved, he did not meet his gaze again, and Snape watched with interest as he left the classroom.

- - -

Harry and Ron had finally given in to Hermione's insistence that their next step to finding the hidden passage was further research. The pile of books on the table in front of them was growing steadily higher, and Madam Pince, the librarian, was occasionally throwing them disapproving looks of 'I hope you are planning to put all of those back in the right places!'

Ron was convinced that they had looked in every book in the library. "You know what the worst thing is?" he asked the other two. "We'll do all this research, and when we find the answer it will probably be nothing to do with the books."

Harry laughed. "You mean like all that time we spent looking for Nicholas Flamel, and we eventually found him on a card that came with a Chocolate Frog?"

"Maybe we should try that one again," said Ron. "All in favor of adjourning to Honeydukes?"

Ron and Harry solemnly raised their hands, while Hermione, in mock exasperation, rolled her eyes. She returned to the book she had been flicking through, but suddenly paused, thoughtfully. They had been spending all their time looking for further clues about the location of the tunnel, but maybe they already had the clues they needed – they just had to use them properly.

"You've given me an idea," she said, slowly, forming the possibilities in her mind as she spoke. "Harry, do you have the Marauder's Map?"

Harry had to return to the tower for this, arriving back, breathless, ten minutes later. By the time he got back, the huge pile of books had been returned to the shelves, to the approval of the librarian and the relief of Ron, who had had about as much of them as he could take for one evening.

Ron was dubious about whatever Hermione had in mind. "We've been over the map loads of times, Hermione," he told her. "There's nothing on there about passages to the lake."

Hermione knew this, but the question was why? Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs had done an excellent job of creating the map – but they knew it to be incomplete. She had a feeling that there were all kinds of tunnels, passages and rooms that did not show on it for one reason or another – there was a classroom on the second floor, for instance, that only appeared on Tuesdays, both in reality and on the map. Harry spread the map out in front of them, after carefully checking that no one was close enough to see, tapped it lightly with his wand, and whispered the words that made the ink appear.

Turning her attention to the dungeons, she searched the area around the Potions classroom. Two figures were in the room, and she read the labels with interest. One read, as expected, 'Severus Snape', but the other was labeled 'Malcolm Baddock'. She wondered about this for a moment, watching as the professor slowly moved around the stationary student, then shrugged. He must have a detention, she assumed.

Suddenly a thought struck her, and she turned to look at her friends. "Before that night when you found out about who I was seeing," she began, hesitantly, "did you ever look at this map, to see where I was?" It had never occurred to her before, but now that she had the map in front of her, it seemed natural that they would have done this.

Harry answered her softly. "We - - - never talked about using the map," he told her. "I thought about it, but - - - it would have been too - - - " His voice trailed off.

"We felt really guilty when we went down to the Potions classroom with the cloak," Ron continued. "It was my idea. We wanted to make sure you were okay, but we never intended to spy on you."

Hermione felt a wave of gratitude pass over her. It must have been tough on them, not knowing where she was all that time. She smiled, then covered her awkwardness by turning her attention back to the map, this time on the rooms and corridors, instead of the figures. A brief glance was enough to confirm her suspicions.

"Look," she told them, pointing at the back of the classroom. "There are passages missing from this – there's a corridor from the back of the Potions classroom to Severus' rooms that just doesn't show!"

Ron and Harry glanced at each other. Even now, her use of the name Severus made them uncomfortable, and the fact that she was talking about secret passages to his private rooms did nothing to alleviate that discomfort. She noticed the look, and sighed inwardly. It hurt her so much that the man she loved and the friends she adored could not be on more friendly terms. None of them had any interest in bridging the gap between them, and she had never pushed the issue, for fear of widening the rift. It could be worse, she reflected, at least they don't openly criticize each other in front of me. It was a carefully avoided subject when she was with any of them, which was not an ideal solution by any means, but it was, thankfully, a relatively peaceful one. Open hostility between them would be more than she could handle from any of them.

Trying not to let her feelings show, she plowed on. "The passage has some powerful magic around it," she told them, "to conceal it, rather than just prevent anyone getting in. Maybe certain types of spell manage to conceal things well enough that they don't appear on the map!"

As Harry and Ron leaned close to see where she was pointing, she showed them Snape's rooms, with the entrance to them from a corridor closer to the Slytherin house's common room. That was the way that was his official entrance, and was much shorter and quicker than the one she usually used. Tracing the line where the hidden passage must be, there was no evidence that it existed at all.

The two boys were fascinated. "This means there could be loads of other passages!" Ron said, excitedly. "Anything that has strong concealment spells on it might not show at all!" The possibilities were endless – whole sections of the school could be hidden – passages to Hogsmeade, hidden rooms – anything!

Hermione explained her idea to them, quickly. "We've known ever since you found out about the passages, that the map doesn't show everything – assuming that the passage to the lake really exists," she added.

Harry finished off her thoughts. "So instead of wandering around the dungeons looking for the passage itself, we should find a way to make it appear on the map!" His voice had become louder, and he glanced quickly round to make sure no one had heard him. "Hermione, you're a genius!" he whispered.

"You only just figured that out?" asked Ron, making Hermione smile, delightedly. She had never had any doubts about her abilities, but reassurance of their friendship meant a lot to her after everything that had happened between them that year.

Getting back to business she said, "So now we just need to figure out how to make the map show the rest of the passages."

Harry thought about this carefully, trying to remember anything that Sirius had told him about how the map had been created. They had never really talked about it much. "I think we'd have to use a combination of a few spells," he said, thinking aloud. "Maybe some kind of revealing charm, to show the passages."

"And some map-making spells," added Ron.

Switching to her usual role of organizer, Hermione set Ron to work looking for books on map-making, while she and Harry researched ways to reveal hidden objects, and break through concealment spells. The Marauder's Map was carefully wiped clean, and put away.

Ron sighed, exaggeratedly, as he headed for the bookshelves once again. "Genius, but slave-driver!" This would be a long evening, but the three of them set to work with renewed enthusiasm, feeling that they were one step closer to finding the hidden passages to the caverns beneath the lake.

- - -

At eight o'clock, Snape sat, waiting for Malcolm Baddock to arrive.

Two minutes past.

Five minutes past.

Ten minutes.

The professor sat at his desk, intently studying a book, when the third-year finally strolled in at twelve minutes past eight, closing the door behind him, and sitting calmly on a desk as though nothing was amiss. He said nothing as the Potions Master calmly finished his page, and placed the book on his desk before looking up.

His voice was matter-of-fact, betraying neither surprise nor anger at the boy, simply stating, "You're late, Mr. Baddock."

The reply was cheerful. "I had some things to do."

It had taken Snape most of the morning to decide, finally, what Baddock's behavior, during the first lesson, had been about. Once he had formed the thought, he knew without question that it was correct. Everything fitted perfectly. All he had to do now was wait for the confirmation. "Out with it, then, Mr. Baddock. Tell me what this is all about."

"There are some ingredients I want for a potion. I was hoping you'd get them for me." He smiled in an apparently friendly manner, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. "I have a list." He held the paper out in front of him, but made no move to bring it forward. Snape stood, willing to allow the boy the feeling of having the upper hand, and moved round the desk to take the list and study it.

A smile played with the corners of the teacher's lips as he read the list aloud. "Powdered unicorn horn. Golden Letterkran skin. Re'em blood. Some interesting and, shall we say – powerful – substances here." He raised a questioning eyebrow at the student in front of him. "And what makes you think I would be willing to acquire such ... potent ... ingredients for you?"

The boy's words confirmed his suspicions. "Because I could make things very difficult for you if I were to let slip to Dumbledore that you're sleeping with the Mudblood."

Snape laughed. It was not a laugh of happiness, but of genuine amusement. Since he had become conscious of what this would be about, he had been playing over the possibilities in his mind. The knowledge that the boy had was not as devastating as he was assuming, but it could still hurt. Secrecy with Dumbledore was no longer necessary, but it would be – unfortunate – if Baddock were to tell the students. The thought horrified Snape, but his emotions were well in check now, and he pushed the fear expertly aside. For several months, he had been concerned about the state of his emotions, and his inability to control his thoughts, expressions and, worst of all, his actions. Hermione had thoroughly derailed his control, but he noted, with satisfaction, that that was not the case now. Instead of being held in the unfamiliar grip of love, he was now dealing with a situation that he knew all too well. He was on familiar ground, and in complete command of his feelings. The smile on Baddock's face faltered slightly, at his victim's unexpected laughter, but only for a second, before the boy regained his composure. He was good, the teacher noted.

Slowly, he began to move around the student, his amused voice low as he spoke. "Blackmail," he mused. "Such a ... convenient ... device. It has the advantage of using the subject's own failings against them, making them the victim of their own transgressions." Despite the apparent confidence, he could sense apprehension from the young Slytherin, and relished the sensation of making him squirm. "I will admit that blackmail has always been one of my favourites."

Baddock turned his head to glance at Snape as he circled him. "Then you'll know that I wouldn't have come here without some – security."

Snape smiled, knowing it to be a lie. Instinct told him that the boy had neither proof, nor a witness to confirm what he said. Neither had he told anyone else of his suspicions. A child like Baddock, for all his cockiness, would not wish to share the spoils of an opportunity like this with anyone. He was protective of his older brother, but he, like the head of the Slytherin house, knew that Alistair Baddock would not be party to this. The Sorting Hat must have seen something in the brother's head to warrant his place in the dark house, but it had never been apparent to either of them. There would be no one else in whom the more devious of the brothers would confide.

Working his way round behind the boy on the desk, he moved close. He knew the intimidating effect that his voice and presence could have, and used both to his full advantage, speaking infinitely slowly, and in almost a whisper. "When it comes to blackmail, Mr. Baddock, you are taking on the Master at his own game!"

Snape was developing an objective respect for the young Slytherin in front of him, especially at the coolness of his voice as he responded. "I'm beginning to realize that, Professor, but I still hold the advantage. Like you said – a victim of your own transgressions."

The Potions Master laughed once again at this. Salazar Slytherin would be proud of this devious little bastard, he thought. He moved back to his desk, looking down at the list of demands, then folded them deliberately, and pocketed them. "Very well, Mr. Baddock, I will play along with your little game, for now, on the condition that you tell no one. Not Dumbledore, not your brother, and no one else – student or teacher. If I find that anyone else knows, then all deals are off!"

Baddock nodded curtly. "Agreed." He jumped lightly from the desk and headed for the door. "Of course – the list you have is only a start. I have some other projects in mind, that I will be asking for your ... cooperation ... with."

Snape sat down behind his desk and picked up his book. "I don't doubt it for a minute."


	35. Owl Post

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 35 – Owl Post**

"Blackmail?"" Hermione stared at Snape in disbelief. They were eating dinner, and he had calmly dropped the fact that he was being blackmailed into the conversation. And by Malcolm Baddock, of all people! "How much does he know?"

Snape's manner was calm, and, for once, Hermione could not tell whether this was genuine, or the result of careful control. "I believe the phrase he used was something about 'sleeping with the Mudblood'."

"Didn't you deny it?" she asked, incredulously.

His eyes met hers across the table, and held her gaze. "It would not have made any difference, Hermione," he told her softly. "He would still be snooping around us to find out more information, and the safest way to prevent him from making things too difficult is to play along and let him think he has the upper hand."

As far as Hermione was concerned, it seemed that the Slytherin did have the upper hand – especially if Severus was simply going to give him anything he wanted. It took Snape a long time to convince her that he had chosen the right path, and even longer to calm her fears of discovery.

Her voice trembled as she reached across the table to take her lover's hand. "Severus, if the other students find out about us, it will ruin everything," she panicked. "Professor Dumbledore is more understanding than I would have thought, but I doubt that anyone else will be. There'll be all kinds of owls from parents about the idea of a teacher and a student together, not to mention what the governors will say – Dumbledore said that... "

Calmly, Snape stood, and walked round the table to her. Kneeling beside her chair, he looked up into her face, and put his arms around her. "My darling, it will be alright." Reaching up, he kissed her cheek, and whispered, locking her eyes with his own, "Now that he has a hold over me, he won't want to lose it. If I cooperate, and give him just enough to keep him happy, he will have no reason to tell anyone. I've told him that all deals are off, if anyone else finds out." Her expression told him that she was not yet convinced, and he continued, "Hermione – I know a thing or two about blackmail. Trust me." A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, and his lips formed a knowing smile. "I'm not the Head of Slytherin for nothing, you know!"

Finally, Hermione managed a half smile, and kissed her lover. "I just hate the idea of having to give in to Malcolm Baddock," she said, softly, then reached out to put her arms around his neck and kiss him again. His warmth and presence were reassuring, and she allowed herself to be soothed by his lips. Their tongues met as the kiss grew deeper, and she felt warmth and comfort reaching out to her. His touch was so familiar to her, now, but a kiss from him could make her react strongly, as though they had never touched before.

His hand reached up to stroke her neck, and sent tingles down her spine at the gentle contact, making her lean into him, drawing him closer. Strong but gentle hands began to unfasten her robes, and her body responded in anticipation of his touch. Her back arched, and her heart gave a jolt of excitement as his fingertips brushed her breasts through the fabric. Unfastening his robes, she moved her lips down to his neck, tenderly kissing the soft skin in gentle movements that she knew would arouse him the way he was arousing her.

The warm breath on her own neck felt perfect, causing a sigh to escape her. She took the lobe of his ear between her lips, and pulled teasingly at it, before whispering into his ear, "Make love to me, Severus!"

For a moment, his lips continued to play on her neck, then he stood, drawing her to her feet with him, still kissing her skin. "Well – if you really insist."

It took a long time to move from the table to the bedroom. Snape was clearly determined to do a thorough job of fulfilling Hermione's demand, and his hands roamed her body, stroking and caressing, and slowly removing her robes, leaving them, along with his own, wherever they fell. Reaching the doorway between the rooms, he leaned her almost naked body against the doorpost, and took her mouth with his. Pulling his hips towards her own, she felt his hardness against her, and longed for him to possess her as he pressed towards her eager body.

Eventually, the distance to the bed was covered, and the remainder of their clothes carelessly discarded. Pushing Hermione down to the edge of the bed, Snape leaned over her, kissing her, but then pushed her legs apart, and knelt on the floor between them. He dipped his head, and kissed the inside of her quivering thighs. Hardly able to breathe, Hermione closed her eyes and tipped her head back, torn between her longing for his kisses to move to their goal, and her desire to make the wonderful anticipation last.

It seemed that her lover had his own ideas about taking his time with this, and his movements were infuriatingly and tantalizingly slow. Gentle breaths of air teased her skin, making her want to scream out to him, and turning her own breaths to shallow gasps of desire. When his tongue finally flicked lightly over her tense body, she gave a whimper of pleasure – arching her body to try to avoid breaking the contact as his lips drew away. A moment longer, and he was touching her again, and she was moaning in pleasure. His tongue could drive her crazy with need for him, and his teasing told her how well he knew it. Making her wait as he took his time with her was clearly the theme for the evening, and he made no exception now. Keeping her on the very edge of ecstasy, his tongue caressed her softness, making her moan and sigh for him, and taking her mind and body into pure bliss.

As he finally gave her release, her thighs gripped him tightly and she let out a wonderful moan, wanting and needing nothing but him.

Slowly, her breathing slowed, and she opened her eyes to meet his as he leaned over her, a hand on each side of her body. He reached down to kiss her neck, then gently whispered into her ear. "Turn over."

For a moment, she gazed up into his eyes, surprised at this, then smiled and rolled onto her front, still at the edge of the bed. Soft kisses trailed over her shoulders, then down her spine as Severus returned to his position of kneeling between her legs. She felt excitement at this untried scenario, and stretched her arms out in front of her, enjoying the feeling of his lips on her back.

The feeling as he slid into her warmth and wetness was incredibly sensual and arousing. She couldn't help but want his slow, firm thrusts to push deeper and deeper, despite her initial hesitancy. His hands reached out to grip her waist, and she arched her body away from the bed in pleasure. She let out a slight gasp at a sudden stab of pain as his climax brought with it deeper penetration, but the sound of her name on his lips as he climaxed drove the brief thought from her mind.

She wasn't certain that this was a position she would like all the time – she liked to hold him close to her as they reached release – but it had excited and thrilled her. As her lover stroked her back and brought his breathing to its usual pace, she smiled contentedly. He made her body respond to his in ways that she couldn't begin to understand. His slightest touch was enough to make her quiver, and even a glance or a word in that low, sensual voice, could make her ache for him.

"I didn't ... hurt you, did I?" Severus asked her tentatively, as they moved up the bed to lay in each other's arms.

She kissed him. "No – it felt perfect. And I would have told you if you'd hurt me." He smiled at her reassurance, and Hermione, glad that he had asked, snuggled into his arms.

- - -

The next day was Saturday, and Hermione had left Snape's room early in the morning, to join Ron and Harry for breakfast, planning to return in the afternoon to continue her efforts on her project. As her teacher, he had given her some useful and constructive criticism about her work. For a little while, the two of them together had seemed to slip back into their former teacher-student relationship, with his severity being met by her proud need to prove herself. She had smiled inwardly at the scene, pleased that, despite everything, there was still a professionalism between them when it came to her schoolwork. Hermione was not one to want or accept favors!

This morning, she had work to do with her friends, finding out more about how to make the tunnels to the lake appear on the Marauder's Map. Given Severus' apparent skills with concealing tunnels, she had briefly considered asking for his help, but somehow she did not feel that Ron and Harry would appreciate it, and he would probably consider it a waste of her time. The plan, therefore, was to return to the library, in the hope of working out how to alter the map themselves. Given their promising results during their last research session, Hermione had high hopes of success, and she also had some information of her own to check out while in the library.

The Potions Master's face was expressionless as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast. That certainly wasn't how he'd looked in the shower an hour ago! Carefully avoiding eye contact, Hermione glanced back to her friends, but looked up, a moment later, as the owl post arrived. Three letters were dropped in front of the friends. Ron received the latest update from Charlie about the habits of the small family of dragons he was working with. Hermione received two letters, one expected (and dreaded), the other with her name in an unknown hand.

Sighing, she regarded the letter from her mother. It had a stamp in the corner, having started its journey via the muggle postal service, transferred to owl mail at the sorting office. This was something she really didn't want to have to deal with right now, and she slipped the letter into her robes, planning to read it later.

The other letter, she opened with interest. There were no clues on the envelope, and glancing at the bottom of the sheet, the name 'Grendel Moldbury Arkletan' told her nothing more. It was only when she began to read that she smiled with happiness at the contents.

She handed it to Harry, who read aloud:

"My Dear Miss Granger,

"I was so pleased when Albus sent me your preliminary draft of your research project. I have discussed the matter several times with your headmaster, and he has given me great assurances of your progress, which I was very pleased to see confirmed in your own hand.

"Your work shows great promise, and I anticipate including it, almost in its entirety, in my finished work. Please keep going with your fascinating research, and I look forward to reading the completed article, which Albus has promised to owl to me as soon as it is submitted.

"With my very best regards,

"Grendel Moldbury Arkletan

"(Order of Merlin, First Class)"

The boys' faces showed their excitement for her. "That's brilliant!" said Ron, happily.

Harry agreed. "Can I have your autograph, now, before you get too famous?" he asked her, pretending to reach into his robes for a quill. She laughed. Having her name in print would be wonderful, but she doubted she would be signing autographs for a while, yet!

Ron's letter caused just as much excitement. Since before Christmas, Charlie had been sending weekly owls about the dragons, and the eggs that the mother had been keeping warm with great flames were due to hatch any day. He promised regular updates, and to send them photographs as soon as they were hatched. They were still discussing their post as they entered the library, but Hermione kept her second letter to herself. Both boys had seen it, including the tell-tale stamp, and respected her wish to avoid the subject.

The other thing that Hermione was keeping to herself was Severus' bombshell about Malcolm Baddock. She would tell them at some point, but not right now. Despite her lover's assurances, she was not at all certain that Baddock could be trusted not to tell anyone. If someone like Malfoy found out, everything would be ruined. Dumbledore's words of a little more than two months ago rang through her mind – 'if this becomes public knowledge, I may have no choice but to change my position on this subject'. The thought of Severus being fired from Hogwarts sent a chill through her. She had to do something about the situation, and until she had things clear in her own mind, she didn't want her friends to know anything about it.

She did at least have an idea of a plan, though, and, while Ron and Harry looked for spells to help with the map, she turned to the section on memory spells.


	36. Bewitching the Mind

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 36 – Bewitching the Mind**

Hermione was successful in her search for information on memory spells, and headed for the dungeon after lunch in a very cheerful mood. Severus smiled at the sight of her, as she stepped lightly into the classroom, and pulled her into his arms.

"Miss Granger," he growled, "it is now six hours and fifty-three minutes since you left my chambers, and I could not have survived another moment without you!"

She giggled. "Maybe next time I should stay away for six hours and fifty- four minutes, just to find out," she laughed.

Her happy expression did not go unnoticed, and he asked her what she was so excited about.

"I have an idea," she told him, "about how to deal with Malcolm Baddock." A hint of caution entered his eyes, and she rushed on, eager to explain her plan. "I've been looking up Memory Spells in the library and ... "

"NO!" His exclamation surprised her.

She had her hands on his chest, and he reached up to grip her wrists, holding them tightly. There was anger in his eyes, and his strong grip was beginning to hurt her. "What's wrong?" she asked him, urgently.

His voice was low and his breathing fast – she couldn't quite read his emotions, but she could sense anger and almost ... fear. "Don't even think about that!" he told her quickly. "It would be better for us to be found out!"

This was ridiculous. How could he possibly have a problem with this? But his eyes told her that he was very serious about it, and there was something in them that she didn't at all like. The situation frightened her – partly at the fact that his anger was something to which she was not accustomed, and partly and the sight of him so ... disturbed by this. "What are you talking about, Severus?' she asked hurriedly. "Tell me what's wrong!"

His face was pained and angered at the same time, and she could not fathom this reaction at all. "Don't be so stupid, Hermione!" he snapped at her. "You should know why we can't just alter Baddock's memory!"

Hermione's wrists hurt her in his vice-like grip, but it was his tone that was prompting the tears that were threatening her eyes. He continued. "Didn't you learn anything from that idiot Lockhart?" he demanded. "He not only screwed with the minds of everyone he exploited, he eventually fell victim to his own idiocy!"

"But memory charms were his specialty!" she responded, in defense.

Severus' tone rose a notch. "And look at where it got him! Do you think he ever recovered from that botch he made of his last spell?" he demanded. Hermione's body was shaking now, and she tried to pull away from him, but his grasp was too strong. His voice was fierce as he continued. "And what about Bertha Jorkins? Barty Crouch was hardly an amateur, and he managed to damage her memory permanently!"

Hermione was beginning to see why this was bothering him so much, but her unexpected fear did not abate. For the first time since he had taken her by force, she was afraid of him, and cowered away. "I'm sorry, Severus!" she whispered, breathing hard.

"The 'Obliviate' spell is not something you can simply play with at will, Hermione! What do you want to do? Eliminate his memory for the last week? It will be noticed. People will ask questions. We've not exactly been models of discretion, you know! If other people start poking around into this, we will be found out as easily as Baddock found out about us!"

Without warning, he released her.

Stepping away from the angry wizard, Hermione rubbed her wrists, trying to get the blood flowing back into her numbed fingers. She didn't like this side of him – what had happened to the loving man who had held her as she arrived?

He turned away from her, steadying himself against the desk, then turned back. His voice was calmer, but his eyes still contained the same burning fury. "Hermione, " he said evenly, "I've violated one student, through my selfishness. Don't make me do that again!"

"Severus, you're scaring me."

He didn't seem to have heard her. "Just because I'm not like McGonagall or Dumbledore, doesn't mean that I don't feel a responsibility to my students!" She could hear the rage underneath the quiet voice. "How can you suggest calmly wiping the mind of a boy like that, just to protect ourselves? Playing with someone's mind is not something to be taken lightly, Hermione!"

"I didn't ... " She began to attempt to defend herself, then suddenly realized the hypocrisy of his statement. Her patience snapped, and she rounded on him, angry at the way he was treating her over this, but still with an edge of surprise and fear at his unexpected behavior. "Wait a minute – how can you say that?" she demanded. "Whatever happened to 'bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses'?"

Snape's response was fierce. "There is a big difference between altering someone's perceptions, and risking irreversible damage to their mind!" He took a step towards her, and Hermione had to force herself not to step away. She thought that the movement was so slight that it would not be noticed, but he stopped, proving otherwise. His hand reached up to his head, his fingers running through his hair, as his face turned to the floor. He seemed to be staring intently at the ground for a few moments, forcing his breathing into long, deep gulps for air, then looked up at her, eyes intently focused on hers. "Hermione," he said slowly and deliberately, "the results of the 'Obliviate' spell are unreliable, at best. And even if we could guarantee success, we would have no right to use it." She tried to tear her eyes away, but could not do it, and his voice acquired a touch of understanding "I know that you want to stop Baddock from having any hold over us, but you must trust me on this. I promise that I will not allow him to destroy things for us."

Hermione gazed into the eyes of her lover for a long time. She felt – so many things. Anger at his attitude to her. Hurt by his harsh words and tone. Fear of his rekindling of the memories of violence. Shame over her foolish assumption that she could make the spell work better than Barty Crouch had managed. She had realized quickly that Snape was right about this, but his anger was all wrong. A part of her wanted to run to him for comfort and forgiveness, but at the same time she wanted to run from the office in fear of him.

Numbly, she looked away from him, and nodded slowly. "I think I'd better go, now, Severus," she whispered. She did not meet his gaze, but could detect no motion from him. She stood in silence for a moment, then turned and stepped out of the dungeon classroom, quietly closing the door behind her.

Snape did not follow.

- - -

It took a few days for Hermione to forgive Severus for his behavior, and a few more to begin to forget the anger she had seen in his face. Anger at her, with which she had to come to terms. It was only when she thought back to Christmas, and his own professions of fear of his volatile emotions, that she managed to force herself to accept that this was just a part of the man she loved. She had to trust him – not only to handle Baddock, as he had requested, but also to keep a check on his emotions. He was entitled to his opinion, and even to his anger – it was only his strength as he had held her wrists that had brought back terrible memories of his earlier violence against her. Memories of the violence of which she knew he was capable, but she had to trust him to control it.

For the next week, Hermione worked diligently on her project. It gave them both a focal point on which to regain some lost confidence, and allowed their emotions to settle a little, while still spending time together. It was an awkward time for their relationship, with both uncomfortable about what had happened, but time gradually helped them through it. As the end of January approached, their argument had been almost forgotten, and their discomfort had disappeared.

Hermione had left her mother's letter unopened for two days before finally feeling that she had the strength to read it. It was not quite as bad as she had expected – although it was bad enough. Snape read the letter with interest, when she showed it to him, and seemed unsurprised by the tone. The gist was that when Hermione returned home for the summer, 'That Snape' would not be welcome, although her parents would not stand in her way should she choose to visit him during the holidays. Given the fact that it was written by her mother, it could have been much worse!

During all this time, Malcolm Baddock continued to be a constant presence. Snape's ability to predict Baddock's behavior was uncanny. The first list of demands had been simply to test the waters, and he was now growing bolder. The teacher's claim to have a rather detailed knowledge of the workings of the mind of a blackmailer, proved completely true, as demonstrated by his ability to manipulate the third-year. From the secrecy of the doorway at the back of the potions classroom, Hermione had watched several of the encounters, unseen. Giving the impression that he was willing to co-operate, Snape gave Baddock just enough of what he wanted to keep him happy, without allowing him to think that this was too easy.

"He will gradually grow more confident," Snape had told her, "but I will make sure that he does not get too sure of himself too quickly." Watching the two, Hermione could not understand how either of them could be so calm in their game of bluff and counter-bluff. She was beginning to see her lover's point that Baddock would gain nothing by going to Dumbledore, as long as he was kept contented with small victories against his victim. "However," Snape warned her, "at the moment, I can keep him satisfied with crumbs, thinking that he is doing well. At some point, he will begin to set his sights on the whole cake!"

Hermione was not comfortable with this news. "What will you do then?" she asked, nervously.

Snape laughed. "Don't worry, my darling. When it gets to that stage I have one or two ideas for keeping the wolf at bay!"

The student could see no grounds for this assurance, but deciding to rely on her gut feeling, instead of her logic, she suddenly realized that she had full confidence in his ability to deal with this. Maybe Severus' dubious history had its advantages after all!

- - -

Snape sat alone in his room, enjoying the crackling of the fire, as he read a poem from the book Hermione had given him for Christmas. If he had allowed himself, he would have finished the whole book within a few hours, but he had been very strict with himself about not doing so. Allowing himself only a page or a poem per day, he was determined to lengthen his enjoyment of the gift. Today's entry was a poem (regretfully short) about the influence that one person can have on another. He smiled, considering the tremendous impact that Hermione had had on him – his life, his emotions, even his character – in such a short time. Things had been a little strained for a few days, true, but that was gradually blowing over. He knew that his anger towards Hermione over that 'Obliviate' idea had hurt her. He couldn't help that, but neither could he regret it. She had been wrong, and she now seemed to accept that – it was his manner that had upset her. They had discussed it, albeit briefly, and he knew that there was nothing he could say to alter how she felt. What she needed was a little time and space to come to terms with it, and he had been happy to grant her that. It had unquestionably affected their relationship – there was a slight tension between them, and less comfort and warmth – but he knew that this was temporary. Nothing could damage their love permanently. What they needed was something to bring closure to the incident. Something to draw them together, and help them bring back the ease and comfort to which they had become accustomed.

He smiled as an idea formed in his mind. Hermione's upcoming birthday would be an ideal time to do something special, and if he planned this well, it would not only complete the return of their former closeness, it might also have a big – and hopefully positive – influence on the situation between Hermione and her mother – one way or another.


	37. A Lesson in Subterfuge

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 37 – A Lesson in Subterfuge**

Snape's warning to Hermione about Baddock's increasing greed was based on a great deal of experience of these matters. The one thing that he could not be sure of, though, was what the greater demands would be. It could be something relatively harmless, such as improved marks for his work (which would likely prove an opportunity for the boy to learn more, anyway – as Snape would have to help him to improve his work, in order to maintain plausibility), or could be something more difficult – such as illegal potions. That would prove more awkward, but he would find a way to work around it, somehow.

But, at the beginning of February, an opportunity presented itself to allow Snape to be the one to steer the direction of the demands to something that would look like a huge task, but would actually be extremely easy to achieve, and benefit Snape as much as the blackmailer. Alistair Baddock, the elder of the brothers, had received rather a poor report from Professor McGonagall, about his Transfiguration project, and Snape, as Head of Slytherin, had agreed to speak to him about his standard of work. It was unusual for the boy to be so lax in his efforts, and Snape felt that his usual brand of severity would give him the kick he needed.

Once talking to the boy, however, he found his approach changing. Whether it was in sympathy for his unhappy mood, or over-compensation for his instinctive desire to throttle the boy who had sent a rose to his beloved Hermione, he wasn't sure, but he found himself using a less harsh tactic. What resulted was a surprisingly frank discussion of the things on the boy's mind, namely an unrequited love for a girl in another house, and a little brother who was driving him up the wall.

Ordinarily, Snape would have been completely at a loss, attempting to give advice to a student on affairs of the heart, but in this case, he felt well qualified to tell the boy that the girl clearly did not merit his attention, being both unappreciative of his romantic gesture, and a non-Slytherin. He should forget her at once, and direct his attentions towards someone more worthy.

The situation regarding the brother was less straightforward, however.

"I don't know what's happened to Malcolm, lately, Sir," Baddock said, miserably. "He's always up to something, and getting into trouble with teachers. He's rude and arrogant – worse than he's ever been before!" The teacher listened patiently to all this. "Father will kill me if he does anything too bad. I'm supposed to be the responsible one, which means I get blamed for anything he does!"

Snape listened with interest. "Well, Mr. Baddock," he began slowly thinking carefully how best to use this to his advantage, "I can appreciate your concerns – I have, lately, been receiving less than favorable reports regarding your brother, from the staff."

There was a pleading look in the boy's eyes, as he addressed the teacher. "I just don't know what to do, Sir. He's becoming obnoxious and uncontrollable."

The Potions Master could not help but give a wry smile at this. "Obnoxious? Yes," he told Baddock, who flinched slightly at this agreement. "Uncontrollable? Not at all." Time for the elder brother to learn some of the skills at which the younger was so adept. "Maybe what Mr. Malcolm Baddock needs is something useful to occupy his time. I may have a solution that would benefit both of us, and the Slytherin House." He gestured to a chair, and the student sat, intrigued and attentive. "Your brother plays Quidditch, does he not?"

"Yes, Sir," Baddock looked down uncomfortably. "But he's not good enough. He was very keen to get on the team, and tried out for Chaser, but didn't make it. Cole said he was useless."

Snape had been aware of this, and suddenly the dislike of Slytherin's Quidditch Captain for Malcolm Baddock became a useful tool. "I saw him play. It was a very close call between Findlay and he, and as you know, Findlay's performance has not been up to scratch so far this year. Cole and I were thinking of making a switch, and your brother may be the ideal replacement. The Captain makes the final decision, but he could be persuaded to give the boy a chance."

Baddock's face began to brighten. "If he were good enough to get on the team, it might keep him out of trouble."

The professor thought this highly unlikely, but merely nodded. "Now, if this is to be effective, it is important that he be made to work hard for it. As you said, he is arrogant – and knowing that the Head of House had personally asked for him would not improve matters." He stared hard at the boy in front of him, who was nodding in uncomfortable agreement. "It is vital that he does not know that I approve this. If your brother thinks he is good enough, he will not bother to work hard, which will benefit neither the boy nor the team."

As Baddock nodded, Snape could not help but be impressed by him. He clearly cared deeply for his brother, but was under no illusions regarding his character and flaws. It was such a difference between them – one considerate, thoughtful and insecure – the other manipulative and over-confident. The elder boy was even romantic (although the thought jarred on Snape's nerves like the sound of nails down a blackboard) towards a girl to whom the younger referred as 'The Mudblood'." Once again, the Head of the Slytherin House was left wondering about the reasons for the Sorting Hat's choices.

"I'll try to convince Malcolm to speak to Cole about a place on the team," Baddock said. "I think it would do him good, and I know how disappointed he was when he didn't get picked."

Snape stood, prompting the boy to do the same. "Very good, Mr. Baddock, but remember – he cannot know that I am in favor of this. He must be made to work hard for it."

"Yes, Sir." Baddock began to leave, but stopped and turned back to the professor. "And – thank you for your advice, Sir."

Snape nodded once. "You may express your thanks, Mr. Baddock," he growled, "by ensuring that Minerva McGonagall never again has cause to complain to me about the standard of your work!"

Alone in his office, the Potions Master thought carefully about how best to approach the subject with the Quidditch Captain, who should be arriving, at Baddock's summons, any moment. Cole, too, would need a lesson in manipulation, if this plan was to work.

An hour later, and the trap was set. All that was needed now was for Malcolm Baddock blindly to walk into it. With a sense of satisfaction, he returned to his work. When it came to games of this kind, patience was definitely one of his virtues.

- - -

Hermione came to Severus that night. He was gentle with her as they made love, afraid, given recent events, of either hurting or frightening her. Holding her tenderly in his arms as they lay together, naked in his bed, he kissed her.

"Hermione, my darling," he whispered into her hair, "you do know that I love you, don't you?"

She turned to him, smiling, but serious. "Yes, Severus. I know. And I love you, more than I could have thought possible" They had spoken the words many times before, but somehow he never felt that he had gotten across to her the full extent of his feelings. How could he ever manage to express what he felt with mere words? And however many times Hermione told him she loved him, it gave him a feeling of absolute comfort and warmth to hear her say the words again.

He stroked her hair as they talked, allowing it to fall through his fingers. He always loved this time that they spent together – talking after making love. They discussed everything from how their day had been, to more serious issues. He told her of his discussions with Alistair Baddock and Nicholas Cole, and his plans for their young blackmailer.

The subject of Quidditch led to talk of Harry and Ron. Their attempt to find the secret passages was going well, and Hermione felt that they were getting close to their goal, although they had not yet found out exactly how to alter the Marauder's Map. However, this was something that Hermione had never discussed with the teacher. It was not really that he would see it as childish – but, somehow, she wanted to keep this between herself, Ron and Harry. Instead, they talked of Harry's Captaincy of the team, and Gryffindor's chances of winning the Quidditch cup. There was still discomfort as they discussed Hermione's friends, but she was relieved to note that her lover could now speak the two names without a snarl or a sneer. It still bothered her to hear him referring to the two by their last names alone, but she told herself not to hope for miracles overnight!

They discussed the upcoming Valentine's Day, and Hermione's unofficial birthday, which would be less than a week later. During her third year, she had kept a close watch on her use of the time-turner, but not so close that she could calculate the time she had gained to the day. She had therefore decided that, as it was approximately seven months, she would use this as the exact figure, and nominate her new birthday as February 18th.

Severus stubbornly refused to discuss plans for her birthday, other than to request her presence in his private rooms at seven o'clock sharp. Giving up on getting any further information on the subject, Hermione suggested a few ideas for Valentine's Day. The Hogwarts grounds would likely be crowded on that particular date, but an invisibility charm would allow them to get away from the throng, for a walk in the moonlight. Still unable completely to master invisibility for herself, they would, once again, be relying on Severus to conceal both of them. Since leaving "Haven", they had had little chance to walk outside together, and Hermione had missed it. They would have to make more time for that, and she looked forward to it. As for her birthday – she had never made much of a fuss about it, either her real or unofficial – but this one seemed different. Whether it was because it would be her eighteenth, or because it would be with Severus, she could not tell, but this time it meant a lot to her. Whatever Severus was planning, she knew she would love it.

Feeling warm and loved, she snuggled into his embrace, and sighed deeply. His skin, naked next to hers, was warm and soft, and she ran her fingers lightly over his chest. The touch had exactly the desired intention, and he tilted her head back to kiss her, before pressing his weight against her and reaching out to stroke her breasts. They were together and in love, and the morning was hours away.

- - -

It took only two days for Snape to see direct results from the plan he had set in motion – earlier even than he had expected.

The door to the classroom was pushed open widely, without a knock – a little drama that Baddock liked to add to his maneuvers – and the blackmailer walked in, smiling confidently. "I need to talk to you," he said immediately, without waiting for the teacher to acknowledge his presence.

Snape kept his eyes on the paper that he was marking, ignoring Baddock until he had finished the page, then looked up. It was a familiar charade, that both had practiced, but it seemed to symbolize the balance of power, and had become almost a ritual for their encounters.

Without responding verbally to the boy's interruption, he sat back in his chair and raised his eyebrows. He had to be careful about how he responded to this. Baddock needed to feel that he had the upper hand, but too much of a display would alert him to the deception. Keeping his face carefully set, he waited for the demand that he knew was coming.

A glow of satisfaction spread through him as the inexperienced blackmailer recited his lines as though they had been scripted for him, exactly as the more experienced deceiver had planned.

"I've decided I want to be on the Slytherin Quidditch team," he said boldly. "You're going to make it happen."

Outwardly, Snape's face expressed carefully hidden shock at being asked for something so impossible, while inwardly, he settled back with a contented smile.


	38. Valentine

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 38 – Valentine**

Snape stood, angrily. "Quidditch?" he fumed. "Do you have no sense of house pride? It is one thing to use this situation for your own ends, but another when your selfishness drags the house down!"

"I wouldn't be dragging the house down," Baddock responded, defensively. "I should be on the team. I'm good."

The teacher sneered. "Who are you trying to fool?" he demanded. "I saw you try out for the team, and there was no possibility of your representing Slytherin. Even the Hufflepuffs would fly circles around us with you on the team!" His face portrayed a mixture of anger and amusement as he jeered.

Baddock's eyes narrowed with hatred for the teacher, and his face grew red with fury. "Look," he half shouted, "I want to be on the team, and I'll prove to you that I'm worth it. If you don't like it, I can always go and have a little chat with Dumbledore!"

With a carefully controlled glance at the boy, Snape expertly conveyed both fear and defeat, making his words seem like a failing attempt to persuade his blackmailer. "It's not that easy!" he muttered, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I can't just take another Chaser off the team without good reason."

Baddock managed a passable imitation of his involuntary mentor's sneer. "I'd say you have a very good reason!"

"I'll have to call in a lot of favors in order to get any of the other team members to stand down!" he snarled. "And Cole will not give up a superior player easily, if you are the alternative!"

Baddock seemed convinced now that Snape would agree, and turned to the door. "Then you'd better come up with a good argument for it!"

He left the classroom, leaving his words hanging in the air, and the door wide open. Snape watched him leave, then calmly stood to close the door and return to his work. There was no rush to deal with Baddock's request. Thanks to his careful preparation, everything was already set. Cole was well prepared to argue loudly against including Baddock in the team, in order, as far as the Captain was concerned, to increase their new Chaser's desire to work hard to prove himself. Baddock would be led to believe that Snape's interference alone, against much opposition, had got him his place on the team, thereby demonstrating that this latest demand had been a big payout for the blackmailer. And the elder brother had been convinced to reduce the boy's confidence in his abilities, making him feel that he could not have earned his place on his own merits, and encouraging him to benefit the house by working hard for the team. Things could not have been better.

Of course, this would not last indefinitely. The more the boy was convinced that this was a big demand, requiring a lot of effort on Snape's part, the longer the effect would last, but eventually there would be further ultimatums. This game would simply have to be played one move at a time.

Because of the necessity of making this task seem as arduous as possible, it was almost Valentine's Day before Baddock was finally admitted to the team. Cole played his part extremely well, convincing the new player that he was not up to the standard required, and that the captain had admitted him to the team only under duress. The captain, of course, knew nothing of Severus' real motives for treating the new Chaser like this. As far as he was concerned, it was simply a tactic to ensure the boys' commitment to the team, and make him work hard, but, for Severus' ends, it worked perfectly.

The real element of luck, from Snape's point of view, was when Findlay, attempting a particularly difficult maneuver, in an endeavor to improve his poor standing in the team, fell from his broom and broke his leg. The teacher had been supervising the practice, and seen the fall. Striding out to help the injured player, he had caught the eye of Baddock, who had been convinced that the teacher had planned the 'accident'. Snape saw no reason to disillusion him about this, and the result was that Baddock developed a healthy respect for – and, more importantly, fear of – his victim. If he was willing to break bones to meet his ends, what would he do to someone who was blackmailing him, if he ever got the chance? Findlay had been infuriated by the fact that he had been replaced so quickly, when Madam Pomfrey had banned him from flying for only a few days, but it was too good an opportunity to miss. Baddock had, therefore, replaced the fallen Chaser, and was on the team.

- - -

Early on the morning of Valentine's Day, Hermione slipped quietly out of Severus' room, stifling a giggle. Checking all around as she left through the Potions classroom, she hurried up the stairs to the main school, towards the Gryffindor Tower. She had had her share of run-ins with Peeves by now, and knew the routes that were the least likely to cause her problems. Clutching the rose that she had found next to her upon waking, she made her way through the empty corridors, and was back in her room well before anyone else awoke.

She tried to picture the scene in the dungeon about now. Severus had been still wrapped in his black bathrobe as she had left his rooms, but about now he would be discovering the little 'gift' she had left for him. In her mind, she visualized his face as he opened the closet door – reaching in for his robes to find ... pink. Everything! She could see the fury on his face, turning to amusement, then to puzzlement and frustration as he tried to figure out how she had done it. Finally, he would break the charm she had put round them, and vow to repay her for it. Little would he know at that point that the joke was not yet over!

As Hermione headed down to the common room, meeting up with Harry and Ron, and continuing on to the Great Hall, she could barely suppress her smile, either at the joke, the thought of the rose she had left in her room, or the memory of being in Severus' arms that morning. So far, it had been the perfect start to Valentine's Day!

There was something a little odd about the way Harry and Ron were behaving, though, that puzzled her. They were being so – polite – almost as though they were not quite sure how to behave, and were afraid of offending each other. It was only when the three reached Breakfast, and Harry's face turned red as his eyes met those of the youngest Weasley, then glanced quickly at Ron, that she realized the cause of their discomfort. Thankfully, Ron looked happy enough about the situation – she didn't know what would happen if he decided to be over-protective of his little sister.

The covert glances between the two continued until the owl-post arrived. It was a special delivery, and the Great Hall was filled with the sound of wings. Wave after wave of birds flew through the hall, dropping envelopes to their recipients, and swooping away, to allow for the next flight. Two envelopes dropped to Hermione's plate, one to Ron's, two to Ginny's and more than a dozen to Harry's.

Ron laughed, good-naturedly. "Half the first year girls still have a crush on the famous Harry Potter, then?" he teased. Harry turned red once again, as he turned with an apologetic look to Ginny, but she was laughing with her brother. Harry quickly searched through the pile of envelopes in front of him, looking for the writing he was clearly hoping for, and, finding it, glanced at the girl opposite him. Ginny's blush confirmed his hope, and he opened it, happily embarrassed. As for Ginny's cards, she seemed perplexed as to the identity of the first sender, but returned Harry's smile as she opened the second envelope.

Hermione was surprised to see Ron's reaction to his card. Of her two friends, he was the one she would have expected to be more nervous and embarrassed by the exchange of Valentines, but he met Parvati's eyes with confidence, and both smiled. Was there more going on there than she had thought? She began to reflect on this, but Ginny's voice interrupted her ponderings.

"So, who are your Valentines from, Hermione?" the younger girl asked.

How could she explain this? Delicately, she opened the two envelopes and read the cards. The first was from Severus. In tiny dots of ink, at the very corner of the card, was the outline of a potion bottle shape, matching her pendant. It would not be noticed unless someone was studying the card very carefully, but Hermione had been looking for some clue like that. The second card was more of a mystery, but a glance towards a nervous face at the Slytherin table told her enough. She read the words inside. "I know that you're not interested, but I wanted you to know I still feel the same way. I won't mention it again, but if ever you need me, I'll be here." Hermione smiled at the sentiment, but felt nothing for Alistair beyond friendship. She slid the card back into its envelope, and picked up the preferred one, once again.

Ginny was still waiting for an answer, and Hermione managed to look perplexed. "I've no idea," she said, "they're anonymous!" The young Weasley did not look convinced, but Ron and Harry were suddenly very interested in their breakfasts, and nothing more was said about them.

It was only after what seemed like a suitable interval had passed, that Hermione risked a glance towards Severus. She had spared him the embarrassment of receiving a Valentine's Card during breakfast, having had it delivered by special owl to the dungeon, but the effects of her earlier charm were still causing him many problems. He was studiously avoiding her eyes, but she could see his patience wearing thin as he reached out for the milk jug on the teachers' table, which suddenly turned pink at his touch. It was exactly the same shade that his robes had been, and he could be in no doubt as to the responsible party. The milk jug returned to its former colour as soon as he released it, but random objects about him were behaving in exactly the same way. Hermione had been very careful not to make the spell too obvious, and he could go for several minutes without a problem, only to find it happening again, unexpectedly. None of the students had noticed the subtle joke, but Professor McGonagall was wearing an unusual smile. A glance at Professor Dumbledore told her that he, too, was aware of the events, and he gave her a smile. Since the night of the fight in the dungeon, when Dumbledore had confronted Severus about their relationship, this was the first time the headmaster had expressed anything but disapproval of their association. She could not fool herself into believing that he had changed his mind about them, but it was a relief to know that he could see some little good in it. She returned the smile, then looked away from the staff table. The spell was carefully cast to wear off before the start of classes – Hermione knew that embarrassing him in front of the students would be unforgivable – and by the end of breakfast, he was back to normal, with everything remaining its appropriate colour when touched.

For one moment, as Hermione left the Great Hall after breakfast, she caught her lover's eye and saw the long-suffering roll of his eyes at her unusually childish prank – but there was a twinkle there also, and she laughed inwardly as she headed to her first class.

- - -

Spending Valentine's Day apart from Hermione was tough for Snape. This was the first time he could remember wanting to be a part of what he would usually term 'sickening sentimentality', and he felt an incredible urge to shout out to the world that he was in love with Hermione Granger. The idea of being able to walk hand-in-hand in public the way that so many pairs of students were doing was enticing, and he longed to be able to hold her in his arms without having to hide away from the world.

You've changed, Severus, he told himself quietly, as he watched his second- year class making a mess of their memory-enhancing potions. She has changed you – all this sentimentality ... love ... it is most certainly not like the old Severus Snape! Even the students seemed to have noticed a slight mellowing of his mood, he noticed, as a Slytherin student dared to make a joke about brewing love potions on Valentine's Day.

"Love potion, Dennon?" he sneered. "Can't get a Valentine on your own merits?" The Slytherin recoiled at the put-down and the class laughed. Gryffindors laughing at his jokes, at the expense of a Slytherin? Things had definitely changed!

It was a long day for the Potions Master, measured in hours and minutes until their predetermined meeting time at eight o'clock. How could he survive until then? It was torture, surrounded by so many young lovers, whose passion and depth of feeling could be nothing compared to his own, yet they were able to express themselves almost openly. Why should they be able to show their feelings, while he was forced to count the seconds until he saw his beloved, and then hide his love for fear of discovery?

Ten hours and fifty-three minutes. It was an eternity – how could he live so long without her?

Seven hours and twelve minutes. A glimpse of her across a corridor could not sustain him for long!

Three hours and twenty-two minutes. He wanted her here now!

One hour and four minutes. Control yourself, Severus! You're being ridiculous!

Twenty minutes.

Ten minutes.

As his love arrived, he drew her silently into his arms and did not let her go for a very long time. He had waited the whole day for her, and saw no reason why he should let her go now that he had her in his arms. This moment was worth every minute he had spent waiting for her, and he did not intend to relinquish his hold easily. Love enveloped him and her warmth reached out to his soul. This was Heaven.

Eventually, Hermione whispered into his chest, "So, am I forgiven for my little Valentine gift?"

He kissed her, in response. "Of course!" he rumbled. "Just don't make a habit of it. Pink is not my colour." He drew back from her a little, holding her at arms length as he studied her face. "Let's go for that walk we planned!" he whispered. "I want to see you in the moonlight." He wrapped her thick robe about her, and reached for his own, then, taking her hand in his, he murmured the words that would enable them to walk unseen, and they headed out of the dungeon.

- - -

The couple by the edge of the forest was so quiet and still that Snape and Hermione almost walked right into them as they skirted the edge of the lake. Standing silently in the dark, Hermione wondered if their approaching footsteps had been heard, but there was no indication of this. More to the point, the shadowed forms were clearly thinking of other things. The smaller figure's head was resting on the shoulder of the taller, and they stood in this embrace, looking out across the water.

Reluctant to disturb the scene, Hermione and Severus began softly to move away, but stopped at the sound of the rustling leaves beneath their feet, for fear of being heard. When the unknown girl spoke in the silence, they both heard and recognized the speaker clearly.

"Harry," whispered Ginny's unmistakable voice, "I'm so glad we're here."

The boy's voice responded equally softly. "Me too." There was a moment's pause, then the words, "Ginny – may I kiss you?"

Severus and Hermione heard no reply, but could see the outline of the couple as they experienced their first kiss. The onlookers turned as quietly as possible, knowing that the unsuspecting couple were busy with other things, and moved away quickly, into the darkness. They said nothing until they were well away from the castle – out of reach of the rest of the world, and especially the rest of the school.

Hermione felt herself being drawn into her lover's arms, as he whispered, "Hermione – may I kiss you?" She smiled at the echo of Harry's words, and answered by reaching up to touch her lips to his. His kiss was so tender and gentle – it was beautiful, and Hermione felt herself melting into his arms. She loved him so much, and the touch of his lips affected her entire body on a level she adored.

The teacher's hands slipped inside her cloak, and onto her back, smoothing over her body with tender pressure, and causing her to move, instinctively, closer, to press against him. His firm chest felt wonderfully solid and warm, and she wrapped her arms around him, lovingly.

"You are so beautiful, Hermione," he whispered, as his lips left hers for a moment. "I love you so much!" Whatever reply she was about to whisper was lost as his lips once again took hers, and their tongues met in tender caresses.

Beneath her cloak, his hands reached for her robes, and began to push them aside. The feeling of his hands on her skin never failed to excite her, and this evening was no exception. Her body responded with quivers and deep sighs, to which he replied by pulling her closer towards him, and holding her tightly.

His lips moved from her mouth to the side of her neck, teasing her with gentle kisses, and reminding her of just how easily he could affect her body. With a sweep of his arm to place his cloak on the ground, and another to cast a warming spell around them, he guided the girl to the ground. Her robes were still in place, but lay loosely open, exposing her soft skin to his touch. His eyes studied her body in the moonlight, then he bent to kiss her – not on her lips, this time – but on the smooth skin of her stomach.

The tingles on her skin increased as his fingers lightly pushed aside the fabric covering her breasts. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, and held her breath as she felt his gentle lips brush her nipple. His tongue flicked playfully at her for a moment, then his kisses became more intense. Severus' breathing became heavier, as the passion and arousal between them grew. She felt his hand slide out from underneath her back, to move slowly down her body as his mouth caressed her breasts. He reached to her thigh, and stroked it, lovingly, first firmly, on the outside of her hips, then moving to tease her with lightly touching fingers on the tender area on the inside of her thighs.

Working their way almost imperceptibly up the soft skin of her thigh, his fingers reached the spot that she so desperately wanted him to touch, but paused, making her wait for a heart-stopping moment, before granting her unspoken wish. His touch was delicate and unhurried, and at the first tiny contact of his skin, she felt her whole body jump as though caught by surprise when the longed-for moment finally arrived.

A finger probed lightly into her wetness, and she smiled in the darkness. Her body was so ready for him, and his touch was the most exquisite feeling she could imagine. Everything about this was perfect – almost. Reaching to wrap her fingers in his hair, she whispered his name, and firmly began to guide his head downwards. His lips left a trail of kisses over her body, finally reaching their goal, where he blew a warm breath over her excited and moist skin.

The moments until his tongue flicked out to touch her were an eternity of anticipation, but worth it, beyond doubt. Severus knew exactly how to touch her to drive her wild with passion and love for him, and his tongue knew every spot that could draw soft moans of pleasure from her.

She was soon panting in excitement, and moaning his name softly into the night. He was bringing her to a frenzied climax under his tongue, and she wanted it to carry on forever. It seemed that he wanted the same thing, as his persistent caresses refused to allow her to come down from her high until she was exhausted from her own pleasure. Even then, his tongue teased her again, with playful flicks at her, as she tried to slow her breathing.

His kisses moved upwards, first to her abdomen, then her breasts, before continuing up her body until he had reached the same level as her. His body was on top of hers, and she could feel his hardness at her entrance.

"I love you, Severus!" she whispered into his ear, her hands on his back, holding him tightly. She barely heard his words, as he told her how much the feeling was reciprocated – her whole mind was taken over by the indescribable pleasure of the thrust of his hardness into her body. The feeling consumed her totally, and she knew nothing else at that moment.

Their bodies moved in rhythm as he brought her to a final climax to match his own. Laying beneath the night sky with the man she loved so deeply, she could not imagine ever feeling more happy than she was now, here in his arms.


	39. Hermione's Birthday

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 39 – Hermione's Birthday**

On the morning of her 'birthday', Hermione woke in response to a soft tickling at her ear. She smiled and looked up into the dark eyes that were watching her face.

"Good morning, Severus," she whispered.

He was blowing a gentle breath into her ear, and smiling down at her, lovingly. "Good morning, my darling. And Happy Birthday!" A gentle kiss was planted on her lips, and she smiled sleepily up at her lover, who continued. "I am sorry, but you will have to wait until this evening for your birthday present," he told her. "For now you will have to be content with me!"

Hermione smiled. "That sounds perfect," she whispered. "You're all I could possibly want!"

- - -

Malfoy and his cronies were ahead of Hermione, Ron and Harry, on their way down from breakfast to Potions that morning. The three had watched the Slytherin Quidditch practices over the weekend, and it seemed that Malfoy agreed with their assessment that Malcolm Baddock was an improvement on the playing of Findlay. Naturally, the Slytherin, like Harry and Ron, was in the dark as to the reasons for the switch.

"Findlay was good, at the start of the season," Malfoy was saying, "but he wasn't doing well. Whatever Cole says about Baddock, I think it's a change for the better." He glanced around, and saw the three Gryffindors behind him. "What are you staring at, Mudblood?" he demanded angrily.

"Nothing much," Hermione smiled, then turned her back on him to talk to her friends.

Malfoy was still muttering about Hermione's remark as they entered the classroom.

"Settle down," Snape growled as they entered. "We have a lot to get through this lesson, so lets make a start, quickly." The class took out quills and parchment at his instruction, and began taking notes as he explained the intricacies of perception-altering potions. There was a lot of detail to learn, and Snape talked fast, expecting them to keep up and having no tolerance for those who could not. Hermione would have to help Neville to catch up, later.

It was only after comprehensive note-taking that the class proceeded to the practical aspect of the lesson, giving Hermione, Ron and Harry chance to talk.

"I was working on my Charms project," Ron told them, "and I found out something that might help us with the Marauder's Map." His voice was low, to avoid being overheard by the teacher or by any of the other students. The last thing they wanted was for someone like Malfoy to find out what they were doing. "It's really difficult to change a spell that's already been done on an object, but there are ways you can do it. Flitwick said he could lend me some books, and he's giving them to me after class on Thursday." This was good news. They had figured out what they needed to do, and they knew which spells to use. All they needed was information on how to apply them, and it sounded like Ron might have the answer to this. Things were looking very promising.

It was Harry who changed the subject to that of Hermione's parents. "What did they send you for your birthday?" he asked.

Hermione smiled, resignedly. "Nothing," she told them. "My mum said she'd send me a birthday present on my birthday, and not before!"

"I suppose it would be difficult to get the muggle world to accept anything except what your birth certificate says," said Harry, "but your parents ... "

" ... are muggles!" shrugged Hermione. "My dad doesn't say much about it, but I know that it bothers him, but my mum always says exactly what she likes!"

At the other side of the classroom, Snape was busy shouting at Neville Longbottom, who had just added far too many wolf hairs to his mixture, making it boil over the edge of the cauldron. The Potions Master had taken to moving Neville away from Hermione on occasion, in the hope that he would learn to fend for himself during Potions lessons, but he looked like he was beginning to regret that failing strategy. "How long is it until you leave Hogwarts, Longbottom?" Snape snarled at the quaking student.

"A year and a half, sir," Neville replied, miserably. Snape looked just as disappointed at this thought as Neville. He began to turn away, but turned back as an afterthought. "You do not have any brothers or sisters, do you?" he asked, apprehensively. Neville shook his head, and Snape muttered under his breath, but fully intending the unfortunate Gryffindor to hear, "Well, that's something!"

Hermione gave him a disapproving glare as she caught his eye, and he turned his back on her with a frown.

"I'm surprised that your mum and dad would be shocked by anything after meeting him," smirked Ron, watching the teacher out of the corner of his eye, and causing Hermione to laugh aloud.

A growl came from the front of the dungeon classroom. "Ms. Granger, I suggest that you concentrate on your work, or you will find yourself spending the evening here, in detention." Forcing her face into an expression of anger instead of laughter, she turned her attention back to her work, not noticing the look of discomfort and raised eyebrows that passed between her friends.

A little while later, while Snape's attention was focused on praising Pansy Parkinson's work, Harry leaned over to Hermione. "So, what's Snape got you for your birthday?" he asked her quietly.

Hermione smiled at the thought of his 'present' that morning, but somehow, she did not think Harry would want to hear about that. "I don't know," she said, "He won't tell me until tonight."

Ron gave a snort. "Then I suppose you'll find out in detention!" As the three fell into silent giggles, Snape carefully pretended not to notice.

- - -

At the appointed hour, Hermione stepped into Severus' room. It was a room she loved, with its rich furnishings, and high bookshelves, but tonight it had taken on an extra warmth. A large fire burned in the grate, bathing the room in a soft glow, mingling with the flicker of the many candles that were placed all around. The Potions Master was seated by the fire, a book open in his lap. He stood as she entered, putting down the book and stepping forward to take both Hermione's hands in his.

"You look beautiful, Hermione," he told her softly as he reached down to kiss her. For a long moment, they stood just looking at each other. Snape wore his customary black, but instead of contrasting the glow of the fire, it complemented it. Instead of seeming cold, as many thought, to Hermione, the blackness - not only of his robes, but of his hair and eyes - was warm and comforting. It was a part of him, which meant a part of her, and she could not imagine him any other way.

"I love you," she whispered, barely audibly, but she knew that her eyes told him that far more clearly than her words could. His own eyes replied and he kissed her again.

He smiled. "Hungry?" She nodded. "Then, let's eat." The table was elegantly set, with more candles, and Severus held her chair out for her before moving to sit down himself.

It was a wonderful meal. Both food and company were perfect, and Hermione could not have pictured a better or more romantic birthday dinner. She had learned that Severus was an expert at conjuring up exquisite meals, with or without magic, At Haven, she had enjoyed watching him work in his kitchen, as he had prepared ingredients for meals in just the same way that he prepared those for his potions. "The art of cookery," he had told her, "is, in many ways, simply a branch of potion-making, with a very specific purpose." She had smiled as he had added subtle blends of spices to the softly simmering pots, and breathed the vapors in deeply, commenting on the ability of the delicate aromas to ensnare the senses. In the case of her birthday dinner, however, he had been forced to use magic to prepare each course.

"I have, on occasions, used the school's kitchens to prepare meals," he said, "but the house-elves are rather inquisitive, and hate not to be permitted to prepare the meal for me." He shook his head at the thought. "I had to threaten to poison them to make them leave me alone the last time I cooked down there." Hermione was accustomed to his jibes about the house-elves, and ignored him, refusing to take the bait.

They ate leisurely, and, as they finished the meal and sat quietly in each other's company, Hermione watched the candle-light reflected in her lover's eyes, and considered just how happy she was. This was perfection.

With the meal cleared away, they sat snuggling by the fire in silence for a while, before Severus reached into his robes and drew out a box wrapped in silvery paper. "Happy Birthday, my darling," he murmured, handing her the gift. Hermione sat upright to open it, finding within the wrapping, a black tin, tightly sealed. Opening it revealed a soft powder, and she looked inquiringly at him.

"An ingredient?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"Floo Powder."

She looked back into the box, then into his eyes. "You mean, you've had my room ... ?

Severus nodded. "It's not on the regular network - that would have to go through the ministry," he smiled, "and it's not on the school network, because student rooms can't be added ... for obvious reasons!" He gestured towards his own fire. "This is the only fire to which it is connected. It is just for us."

Hermione could hardly believe it. This was wonderful. She had thought about trying to get her room on the floo network, but knew that there were too many obstacles. It was the perfect gift. His was the only fireplace she wanted to be able to reach, so the limitations were ideal. Carefully sealing the lid, she threw her arms around him and hugged him. "this is perfect, Severus. Thank you!" Hermione's mind raced with the possibilities as they held each other. Not having to dodge Peeves each morning would be a big relief, and she would be able to come and go as she pleased. It would also mean that Severus could visit her room. The head of Slytherin did not have access to the Gryffindor tower. He had never seen inside it.

They kissed tenderly, enjoying the thought of the freedom that this would give them both. Severus drew her close, and she rested her head on his chest as they sat, comfortable, in front of the fire. After a while, Severus spoke again. He sounded hesitant, as though unsure of her reaction. Surely he knew that there was nothing he could not say to her, by now?

"Hermione," he paused. "I have been thinking about your parents," Hermione waited, unsure of how to respond to this. "and about why they dislike me so much."

'Dislike' was hardly the word, thought Hermione, wryly - at least where her mother was concerned - but she said nothing and Severus continued. "I know that they do not like the fact that I am a wizard, and there is nothing I can do about that. But I believe that it is also the age gap that bothers them, and the fact that I am your teacher."

Hermione considered this. "There's nothing you can do about the age gap, either, but you won't be my teacher after this year."

"True", he conceded, "but there is more to it than that. They undoubtedly assume that, because of these things, I do not really love you. A man almost their age, having a relationship with their little girl, twenty years younger ... ! I can understand their reaction. They must think that I am just using you, and will move on to another student when I get bored with you.

Hermione sat up and turned to look at him. "So, what can we do about that?" she asked.

His eyes drilled into hers. "I want to prove to them - and you - that this is real and that I truly do love you," he said, seriously. He paused, watching her face, before continuing. "Marry me, Hermione."

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

_I remember writing this chapter of the story, about four years ago. I had it all planned out, but without the proposal. Then, as I got to the end, somehow Severus took over, and I found myself writing this! Sev's idea - not mine!_


	40. The New Marauders

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 40 – The New Marauders**

For a long moment, there was silence between them. Hermione was stunned by the unexpected proposal. The first thing she could think of was how unbelievably wrong Severus was about how her parents would react to this. They would not see it as confirmation of his love and commitment - to them it would be ridiculous, and they would never approve. Her mum and dad were not the issue, though, she knew. Right now this had to be about her own feelings.

"Severus ... " she began, then faltered. What could she say? This was not a simple question that she could answer so quickly. She loved him, without question, but marriage was a huge step.

Severus' eyes were still fixed on her own. "It is alright, my darling," he said softly. "I do not expect an answer right away." A hand reached up to stroke her face. "I am not suggesting that we marry immediately. I was thinking of the summer, or possibly even once you have left school altogether, but I could not help but ask you now."

The temptation to say 'yes' immediately was overwhelming for Hermione, but she knew that she had to think about this before making any rash decisions. It would not be fair to Severus to speak without thinking. "It's a big step, Severus," she told him. "Give me some time?" It was phrased as a question, and he nodded in response. She leaned forward and kissed him, fighting the urge to accept without further thought.

Turning around where she sat, Hermione leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, they sat by the fire, each caught up in whirling thoughts and emotions. A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione, and she laughed. "You really don't understand muggles, do you?"

Severus' voice was puzzled. "Why?"

"Because if you think that asking me to marry you will make my parents change their minds about us, then you couldn't be more wrong," she told him. "They would hate the idea!"

He squeezed her, and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "I am sorry. I have no wish to make things worse."

Hermione snuggled against his chest, smiling. "Don't be sorry," she said, "as long as making my parents like you wasn't the only reason you asked."

Snape's response was an amused rumble. "I do have other reasons, such as the fact that I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Hermione said nothing, and he continued, "But I know that you need some time, so I do not expect an immediate answer. For now, why don't we just enjoy tonight, and not think about anything else?"

This sounded like the perfect idea. Not that Hermione could avoid thinking about this, of course, but she wanted to be with Severus now, and think only of the moment. "What did you have in mind?" she asked, playfully.

Instead of answering, Severus stood, bringing her to her feet with him. She was still facing away from him, and his arms were wrapped about her from behind. He bent to kiss the side of her neck. Even after being together for so long, a touch of his lips could still turn her legs to jelly. He knew just how to touch her to make her quiver, and she closed her eyes and sighed, giving herself completely to his kisses. His hands moved from her waist to her hips, holding her against him, and she could feel his hardness against her back. She placed her hands on his, and arched her body against him. Warm lips toyed with her ear, making her heart flutter in her chest. It was amazing how easily and how strongly his body could affect her with such simple actions. Each time they made love was an unique and wonderful experience.

She reached up and behind her to his face - touching his skin and running her finders into his hair. His hands moved up to cup her breasts and she let out the softest of moans at the tender touch. Thumbs caressed her nipples through her clothes, and she pressed her body back against him, needing to feel as much contact between their bodies as possible. Releasing her breasts, he turned her and caught her up in his arms. With arms wrapped lovingly about his neck, Hermione kissed him deeply. Their lips remained joined as Severus turned and carried her towards his bed.

- - -

The rest of the week was torture for Snape. Torture that was made infinitely worse by having to conceal his emotions from Hermione, so that she could not see how much her delay in answering was killing him. He had agreed to give her some space and time to think, and he had to live up to that, but he did not have to like it! For the next three nights, she worked on her project in the dungeon classroom, but stayed with him on only one of those nights. They did not discuss Snape's proposal, as agreed, but talked of everything else, avoiding the one subject constantly at the front of their minds. He was almost relived when, on Thursday evening, Bale and Gem arranged to work on their projects, and he was spared another evening of careful avoidance. Forcing his mind onto the subject of their projects, he found it to be a very productive evening, and was impressed by the work that all three of the students were producing.

One incident during the week was actually very satisfying - or would have been, if Snape's mind had not been elsewhere - and involved Malcolm Baddock. Despite being a better Quidditch player than his predecessor on the team, there was still friction between the newest player and the captain. Cole's attitude toward him was only partly a ploy to keep him working hard and prevent him from becoming complacent - there was also a genuine dislike between the two of them, particularly on Cole's part. The blazing argument that happened in full view of both the Slytherin and Ravenclaw teams suited Snape's purpose in furthering the impression that the house head had had to pull rank in getting the blackmailer on the team. It was unfortunate that Snape's mind was too preoccupied to take much satisfaction in the events.

Lessons were mostly a blur during the week, although he had sufficient control and professionalism (although only just, he told himself) to ensure that his classes were not aware of anything wrong. He commended and criticized, praised and punished in his usual manner, and the only difference in his teaching was that he was careful not to set homework that would require too much concentration to mark.

On Friday, he finished his final class of the day, and returned to his room just in time to see Hermione stepping out of the fireplace. "Hello, my darling," he smiled, pulling her towards him and taking her mouth with his own. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and a warmth spread through him. Twice during the day - at breakfast and lunch - he had seen her and been unable to hold her. On both occasions, she had looked thoughtful and distant, although she had seemed happy enough when Potter and Weasley had engaged her in animated but clearly secretive conversation.

It seemed that this conversation had involved the forming of plans. Hermione was out of breath and in a hurry. "I can't stay long, Severus," she said, hugging him tightly. "Ron and Harry are waiting for me, and I said I'd just be a few minutes."

Snape could not help but feel a little disconcerted that she was making plans and having such fun, while he was going crazy, waiting for her answer. "Big plans?" he asked, hoping that his voice did not betray the twinge of jealousy that he felt.

She squeezed him. "You would probably think it childish," she told him. "I suppose it is, really, but it's just some fun." She drew back and looked into his eyes, her face smiling but serious. "Severus," she said softly. He held his breath. "We have some things to discuss. Why don't I come here tomorrow afternoon, and we can talk?"

Snape's whole body went cold. He could feel his skin tingling with goose bumps, and a shiver ran down his spine. His throat was dry, but he managed to force a response. "Very well."

Hermione was still smiling, and he tried to read her eyes. There was love there, definitely, but there was something about her smile - a solemnity that worried him. Was that even a touch of sadness in her face, or was he imagining things? Maybe that was why she was delaying in answering him - she needed to find a way to let him down gently.

"I love you, Severus," she whispered, then kissed him softly.

He knew that, but it did not necessarily mean that she wanted to marry him. He swallowed, trying to rid his throat of the lump that was forming. "I love you too," he managed.

With a final smile and a kiss, she said simply, "I'll be here around two. See you tomorrow." She turned to the fire and a moment later was gone, leaving the memory of her smile and the touch of her lips fixed in her lover's mind as he stared into the flames.

- - -

"I am glad to see such enthusiasm for your project, Mr. Weasley," Professor Flitwick said to the student towering over him. He turned to the pile of books he had prepared, and with a swish and flick of his wand, and an animated "Wingardium Leviosa", he delicately lifted the stack to Ron's outstretched arms. As he felt the weight of them, Ron realized why the little wizard had chosen not to lift them himself, and staggered off, thanking the teacher and promising to return them quickly.

As arranged, Hermione and Harry were in the library, and the three set to work on the books at once. They already had spells to counteract the protections over the heavily concealed areas of the castle, and map-making spells to make those areas show on the parchment. All they needed now was a way to apply those to the map. They had to find some way to break through the protections already on the map itself, and allow the original spells to be modified.

After all the time that they had spend working on this, it seemed almost too good to be true, when, after less than an hour, Harry found something in a book called "Charm Against Charm" by Carmilla Incantina, which appeared perfectly suited to their needs. Disregarding the other books, they pored over the pages, reading and re-reading them until they almost knew them by heart, and were convinced that they had found their answer. In amazement, the three sat back and stared at each other, a grin spreading between them as an unspoken consensus was reached. They had a little more than an hour before dinner, and they quickly packed up their things and headed off to find somewhere more private. The library was a wonderful place to do research, but hardly the place for putting it into practice. Neither would the Gryffindor common room do, as it would likely be crowded, and this required secrecy, so they eventually settled on an unused classroom close to the library.

Closing the door behind them, they spread the map open on a desk and spaced themselves around it.

Harry touched it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The familiar lines of ink spread out from the center of the map, showing the rooms and passages that they knew so well. Hesitantly, they glanced at each other. Now that everything was set, each felt a certain apprehension about altering the map. It had been invaluable to them over the years, and if anything should happen to it, it would be a tragedy.

Ron broke the silence and spoke for all of them. "Well, we've come this far ... " Harry and Hermione paused for a moment, then nodded, and it was agreed. There would be no turning back now.

They set to work. It was a complex series of spells that they had put together, with each having their own role, and took a great deal of concentration from all of them. Wands poised, they recited the incantations that were the result of their many weeks of work.

As they reached the point where they would have to break through the map's previous spells, their mouths became dry with apprehension. If anything were to go wrong, this would be it. Their hearts beat fast as they saw the lines of the map disappear, and words begin to form as though an invisible hand were writing on the surface.

_Mr. Mooney would like to point out that this map is protected against tampering, altering, tinkering and all other forms of meddling._

The first time that Harry had seen the map speak' like this had been to Snape, and Ron and Hermione had heard the full and rather amusing story at the time. None of them had known, then, who the map-makers had been, but this time, each of them could almost hear the familiar voice of Remus Lupin, as they read the words.

_Mr. Wormtail adds that it is unlikely that you have the ability to break through our defenses, so don't bother trying!_

_Mr. Padfoot thinks you should know that this map is the result of many hours of patient work in the worthy cause of mischief-making_

Hermione and Ron glanced apprehensively at Harry, as they waited to read the final Marauder's thoughts on the subject. However, as the words appeared, the hint of sadness in his eyes turned into a soft smile.

_Mr. Prongs recommends that you mind your own business and stop messing with this!_

Harry's hand reached out to touch the words, and he whispered, "Don't worry, Dad." He stared at the map, then seemed to shake himself before looking up and nodding once at Ron.

Taking his cue, Ron muttered the words that they had learned from Flitwick's books, and the writing on the parchment faded. As Ron's words continued, a new series of message appeared.

_Very well, if you insist, we will allow it._

_However, as originators of this amazing little trinket, we reserve the right to add our own touch to your meddlings._

All three of the students tensed in apprehension as they considered the meaning of the words.

_Map-makers require a name, and we hereby name you ..._

_The New Marauders_

Again, the map went blank, but the three managed half a sigh of relief before a final message, almost as an afterthought, appeared.

_We just hope you know what you're doing!_

The friends stared at the disappearing words as the map went totally blank. Had it worked? Afraid to find out, they gazed nervously at the parchment, then finally, Harry stretched out his wand and repeated the words to make the ink appear. Three hearts skipped beats as, for what seemed like hours, nothing happened. Then, at last, the lines of ink spread from the tip of the wand. The words at the top of the map had changed, and Ron excitedly read them aloud.

_"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs"_

_"Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers"_

_"in association with"_

_"The New Marauders"_

_"are proud to present"_

_"THE MARAUDER'S MAP"_

All of the familiar lines were still there, but, each of them realized with excitement, a new set of lines had appeared, in faint ink, not as clear as the rest, but there, nonetheless. With a thrill, Hermione pointed to the lake. Caverns had appeared and, just visible, a maze of passages could be seen reaching towards the castle. They traced them to the dungeon, and it took a while for them to see where the pale markings led. The blood drained from Ron's face, and it was several seconds before Hermione realized the reason.

They had finally found the secret passages to the lake caverns, and the entrance to them was right where Ron and Harry had met the Bloody Baron.

- - -

Hermione had already arranged to work in the dungeon that night, and headed down there immediately after dinner, leaving Harry and Ron studying the map. Naturally, she said nothing to the Potions Master about what they had been doing, or their plans to find the caves.

The next morning, at breakfast, they told her their plan. The Bloody Baron's movements were extremely difficult to predict, but he spent most of his time in the area where they had seen him. As they had watched the map the previous evening, they had seen him leave the area only once, and for a short time. This had been when Peeves had been wreaking havoc outside the Great Hall, and the Bloody Baron and several other ghosts had all headed that way. The only time when they could be reasonably certain of his absence from his regular haunt was during meals, which made that evening the next suitable time to try out their plan.

They had no idea how long it would take them to reach the caves, and without the map it would be impossible, judging by the complicated twists, turns and forks of the passages. It looked like it would be possible to be lost for days in the maze, and they would have to be careful to follow the map closely. As for how to get out again, they would have to watch the tiny ink figure of the ghost, until they saw him leave their path clear. At worst, they would have to wait until breakfast the next day, but if all else failed, they would have to use the invisibility cloak to sneak past him, although waiting for him to be out of the way altogether would be their preferred strategy.

Straight after class, Hermione rushed to her room and traveled by Floo Powder to Severus' room. He was just stepping in as she arrived, and she smiled at his welcome. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him as they kissed. Since Monday night, she had thought of little else but his proposal, and the developments in the search for the tunnels to the lake had been a welcome diversion.

The same thoughts had been going round and round her head for the past four days. She loved Severus, and was in no doubt that she wanted to marry him, but that did not mean it was the right decision. The sensible and responsible side of her character could not allow her heart to rule her head so completely on something this important. She was still in school, and barely an adult. In her head, she had pictured herself and Severus in a few years' time, and assumed that they would be married, but was now the right time? Even though he had said that he did not mean to marry straight away, maybe she was too young to be making a decision like this now. And yet, she knew that what she and Severus shared was real and would stand the test of time. If that were true, there would be no point in delay.

Her thoughts were going in circles again, she realized. The only thing she could be completely sure of was the fact that she loved Severus, and wanted to be with him.

But Ron and Harry were waiting, and she and Severus had far too much to discuss to try to talk now. She was not ready to tell her friends about the proposal, and there would be no way to avoid it if she did not go with them tonight. Much as she hated the thought of leaving Severus' loving embrace, her answer to him would have to wait until the next day. It was for the best. The last thing she wanted to do was rush this. She quickly explained that Harry and Ron were waiting and said she would be back the next day.

"I love you, Severus," she whispered, then kissed him. His response, however many times she heard it, filled her with a warm glow, and it took all of her strength to drag herself away from the man she loved, and back to her room.

A few minutes later, she was in the Gryffindor common room with Ron and Harry. The invisibility cloak was carefully hidden under Ron's robes, and the map was folded inside Harry's pocket. The friends grinned excitedly at each other, in anticipation of the night's events.

The New Marauders were ready for adventure!


	41. Ensnaring the Senses

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 41 – Ensnaring the Senses**

Four o'clock.

It was now two hours after Hermione had said she would come to him, and there had been no sign of her. Snape paced the room, turning occasionally, to stare at the fire or the door, as though visualizing her stepping inside would make it happen. Apprehension turned to anger, then to dread as he paced, weighing the possibilities in his mind and not liking any of the thoughts that came to him. She had said she would be there at two, so either she would not or could not get to him.

A pang of fear touched him as he pictured her injured or trapped somewhere, only to be replaced with revulsion at himself. Am I now so selfish and delusional that I would rather think of her hurt than face the reality of rejection? Accept the truth, he jeered in self disgust. She has made her decision and cannot face telling you!

Of all the things going through Snape's mind, the one thing he was completely sure of was that Hermione loved him. He could see it in her eyes and her smile whenever he was with her, but that did not mean she was prepared to marry him. She had said that it was a big step, and so it was – too big for him to expect her to commit to it right now. Why couldn't he just have left things alone? They had been happy together. True, they had had their high and low points, but they had survived them. Things had been going well, despite Snape's irrational swings between rage and self pity, all of which Hermione had dealt with effectively and with more emotional maturity than he. The one thing that had had the ability to shatter what they shared, was forcing Hermione to consider their relationship in such serious terms as marriage. She was not ready for it, and he should have left well alone. He had ruined everything.

But he could not understand how she could leave him in the dark like this. Her decision was reasonable – inevitable – but it was unlike her to avoid dealing with the issue. Anger began to take hold of his thoughts. It was unlike her, and totally unfair. Whatever her reasons, she had no right to torture him like this with her delay. Damn her! If she had decided not to marry him, as she quite obviously had, then he had a right to know. He stopped pacing, spun on his heel and strode to the fireplace. Reaching to the mantle for the Floo Powder, he flung a handful into the flames, and a moment later was stepping into her room.

It did not come as much of a surprise not to find her there, but it did leave him slightly at a loss as to his next move. Where else could she be? He deserved an answer, even though it would not be what he wanted to hear.

He surveyed the room, as he considered what to do next. He had never been there before, but it was typically 'Hermione', and one glance was enough for him to feel that he knew it well – from the neatly made bed to the book laden shelves above the tidy desk. The only thing in the room that did not fit with this image of precision was the second drawer of the dresser, which was open wide, with items hanging over the edge. With a start, Snape realized that he had been wrong in his assumption that the room was empty, for, staring at him from the drawer, was a large ginger cat.

He had seen Crookshanks once before, but would not have remembered had Hermione not reminded him of it once. He could recall the night vividly, but the presence of the cat in the Shrieking Shack had not been his primary focus at the time. Judging by the animal's lack of interest, it seemed that the meeting had been forgotten by both parties. Still, Snape's smell must be familiar enough to Hermione's pet now, mingled with that of her own.

Damn the girl, where was she?

He was about to turn away and return to the dungeon, when something caught his eye. Stepping up to the cat, which eyed him suspiciously, he stared at the piece of torn fabric that had caught his attention. With a swift movement, he dislodged the surprised cat from its bed, leaving it to fall to the floor, recovering just in time to land on its feet. Snape ignored its whine of protest as he reached out to the torn cloth and held up the ripped remains of the shirt that Hermione had been wearing the night he ... That Night.

As his fingers touched the cotton, he recalled the sound of the tearing as he had ripped it from her body. Images flashed in front of his eyes, of her terrified face and the beautiful body under him. He could feel his arousal as he thought back to the thrill of taking her. He could almost smell her skin, and hear the sound of her pleas as she begged him not to stop. Clutching the shirt to his chest, he closed his eyes, feeling his excitement rise at the memories – her struggling body as he first took her in his arms – her fear as she lay naked and bound on his desk ...

Oh, God, what was he doing?

In horror, he dropped the garment to the floor, and backed away as though it terrified him. What the Hell was happening to him? After everything he knew he had put Hermione through, how was it possible that he could take pleasure in the memory of what he had done? He was being aroused by thoughts of the pain and fear he had caused her. All this time, he had told himself that he had reacted to her body, her eyes, her moans of pleasure, but in that one instant, he had seen the truth. Some part of him, at least, had been aroused by the fear in her eyes, and the idea of taking her by force. Horror overwhelmed him as he realized that at the moment he had first taken her, he had been excited, not only by the fact that it was sex, but also by the knowledge that it was rape.

From the mirror above the dresser, the black eyes of a stranger stared out at him. No – not a stranger, he told himself. He is all too familiar – you have just forgotten. At one time, the agony of others was the only thing that could give you pleasure! You thought that you could change, but this just proves that you are still the same man. The same monster.

There was no longer any doubt in Snape's mind about Hermione's answer. She was young and vulnerable. His act of violation could have reached her on some primitive level – convinced her inexperienced senses that she was in love with him – but being faced with a decision about the rest of her life could have no other effect than to bring sense and reality to the surface. She could never marry such a monster.

He fled through the fire to his own room, as the bile began to rise in his throat.

- - -

In the murky depths of the lake, something was moving.

For almost four hundred years, the dark form known as 'The Guardian' had kept its vigil – watching for merfolk who might stray into the dangerous tunnels. It did not happen often – the entrance to the Guardian's home was well hidden – but occasionally, mischievous young merfolk would explore a little too far. The last time had been several years ago, and the Guardian had watched from the shadows as they played for a while, before chasing them off. It was a solitary beast – necessarily so, because of the nature of its task – but it found the lake's other occupants interesting, on the rare occasions that it saw them. There had been a time when it had found their presence intrusive. They had disturbed its peace with their frequent comings and goings through the caves. It was only once things had changed, and the tunnels had become a danger to the merfolk, that it had ventured from the deepest caverns, and taken on the duty that it still held.

Even during the former days, it had never seen 'airfolk', and never seriously believed that the mythical creatures existed. The idea of anything being able to survive outside the water was no more than the wild fancy of the gullible merfolk. What it had seen today had changed all that, though. Drifting gently through the tunnels, it had reached the largest of the caves, picking the shellfish off the rocks along the way. At first, it had not noticed the still figures laying just beyond the water's edge. When it did spot them, its first thought was that some of the mer children had made it through the tunnels and climbed out of the water. It had been about to drag them back in, and through the tunnels to safety, when it noticed that they were the strangest merfolk it had ever seen, and it moved for a closer inspection.

When the three creatures stirred, it realized that the only explanation was that these were the fabled airfolk. It watched in wonder as they moved away from the water. Their movements were jerky and inelegant, and they seemed confused. Clearly the airfolk had little intelligence, judging by their strange behavior, but something should still be done.

No mer person had ever stayed in the tunnels long enough for the Guardian to see the effects that they would have, but it had been told the consequences would be serious. Maybe it would not be the same for airfolk – they may be able to survive here, unharmed. The three had disappeared into the air tunnels, and the Guardian turned away. There was something about this that felt wrong. It did not relish the thought of leaving the sanctuary of its caves, but it had to get a message to the mer chieftainess.

With trepidation, it left the safety of its home, and ventured out into the open lake.

- - -

Returning to his room from Hermione's, Snape had spent a good part of the next hour emptying his guts. His disgust with himself had been expressed in a very physical reaction, and his body, as well as his mind, felt weak. The passage of time went unnoticed, and more than six hours later, he still sat, unmoving in the doorway to his bathroom, resting against the door jamb and staring, unseeing, at nothing. Hermione's absence from him was now completely understandable. He knew that there was no way she could marry him, and he would have to accept that. No longer waiting for her to arrive, and unable to think clearly about anything, he was simply sitting – his mind numb.

A loud knocking at the door disturbed the silence. For a moment, he thought it must be Hermione, but it was Dumbledore's voice that called his name. Anyone else, and Snape would simply have ignored it, but that was not possible with the headmaster.

As Snape opened the door, Dumbledore was looking older than he had ever seen him. Judging by the expression in his eyes as he regarded the Potions Master, Snape's own appearance had not gone unnoticed, and added to the already worried look on the old wizard's face.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, gravely, "I do not wish to intrude, but we have a serious situation on our hands." As Dumbledore stepped inside his room for the first time ever, Snape's only thought was that he had somehow found out about his proposal, and come to express his concerns, but this thought was pushed aside by his next words. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Ronald Weasley, and Miss Granger are in grave danger. I have called the staff together, but I felt I needed to warn you first."

There were only two people, other than Dumbledore, who knew about the tunnels to the lake – McGonagall, as deputy head, and Snape, as head of Slytherin, whose ghost was the first deterrent to keep students away from the dangerous area. As soon as Snape heard where Hermione was, all other thoughts left his head, and he would have headed for the tunnels immediately if Dumbledore had not stopped him.

"No, Severus. You must not go yet," he was told, firmly. "We cannot afford to have more people to search for. You will return to the staffroom with me, while I inform the rest of the staff, and we will tackle this properly." Knowing that it was pointless to argue, Snape turned to head for the staffroom, but was stopped, once again. "And, before we go, you will, please, take a moment to pull yourself together!" Snape stared at the headmaster in anger for a moment, then nodded, resignedly.

By the time the two wizards stepped into the staffroom a few minutes later, there was no evidence of the younger's agitated state of mind. He was impassive and aloof, as always, and if anyone noticed the fact that he was not inclined to make his usual scathing remarks about the Potter boy's recklessness, they would assume it to be because of the seriousness of the situation. Dumbledore stepped to the centre of the room, while Snape stayed close to the door, resting his back against the wall and watching the older man intently.

All the teachers were assembled, sitting or standing around the room, and their soft murmur died to attentive silence as the headmaster spoke.

"I doubt that many of you are aware of the events of 1622, when a valuable item was stolen from the merfolk by a Hogwarts teacher." He spoke quickly, gazing at each member of staff in turn as he addressed them. "The item was eventually recovered, through cooperation between the merfolk and the then headmistress, Sophia Scholl. This cooperation was through the use of a series of tunnels which connected the school to large caverns beneath the lake. Once the thief was apprehended, he was so angry that he placed terrible curses on the tunnels, making them treacherous to anyone entering them. The tunnels were sealed and hidden, both from the Hogwarts end and from the lake itself, so that neither land nor merfolk could enter them." Dumbledore paused for a moment, then continued. "Tonight, I have received word from Mer Chieftainess Murcus that three students were seen inside the caves, from the lake. The three students, who are still missing, are Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger. If we cannot find them quickly, then I fear the worst."

Snape remained silent, but the rest of the staff began to murmur quietly. The voice of Madam Hooch rose above the hum, expressing the thoughts of many. "How do we get to the tunnels?"

The staff fell silent once again, and Dumbledore replied, "The entrance is in the dungeon - in the area haunted by the Bloody Baron. His presence is enough to keep most students away, but the entrance is also heavily concealed as added protection. I do not yet know how the students managed to break through the concealments."

Professor Flitwick, looking tinier than ever, standing in front of the huge gamekeeper, spoke up. "What spells were used on the tunnels?"

Dumbledore shook his head, sadly. "Alas – the complete mix of spells is unknown, but there are many. Forgetfulness, confusion, fear – far more than I am aware of, and all aimed to confuse the senses and keep the unfortunate victim wandering until they simply waste away." His voice was soft but urgent, knowing the need for clarity of information, but also the need for speed. His gaze fell on the Potions Master, then turned away as he got down to business. With calm assurance, he began giving instructions to his staff, and getting them organized. Teachers were sent to each of the houses – not to tell the students anything, but as an assurance against anyone being out of bed at this worrying time. Professor Sprout was requested to find Ginny Weasley, and explain the situation to her. Madam Pomfrey was to prepare for whatever may have happened to the students, in preparation for when they were found. Professor Flitwick would, with Dumbledore himself, be doing everything he could to counteract the effects of the spells around the tunnels, making the search less hazardous for all concerned. The other staff, led by Professors McGonagall and Snape, would be searching the tunnels, reporting back on a regular basis, to ensure that no one was lost.

"Remember," Dumbledore told them, solemnly, "the longer one is in the tunnels, the more serious the effects. That applies to each one of us, as well as to the students who are already there. Speed is imperative."

Snape was very much aware of the need for speed, and had hardly been able to contain himself while waiting to get started. The meeting had taken only a few minutes, but it felt to Snape, as though they had been stalling for hours. It was a tremendous relief when, finally, they were able to head down to the dungeon.

Hermione meant everything in the world to him. If he lost her, he could not go on living.

- - -

Deep beneath the school, Hermione woke in confusion and looked about her. She was in a passageway, at a point where it split in several directions. There was a dim light around her – enough to see her way – but she could not tell the source. Something told her that she should go somewhere, but she had no idea which way, or even where she needed to reach.

Using the wall to steady herself, she pulled herself to her feet. The walls of the tunnel seemed to twist and spin, and she closed her eyes to try to stabilize herself. When she opened them, she felt a little better, but as she took a few steps forward, towards the widest of the openings, her balance failed her. She hit the hard ground with a thud, and a moan of pain. Laying still for a few moments, she tried to get up, but could make no sense of which way was up, nor make her legs do what she wanted them to do. She winced at a pain in her left arm, and looked round to see blood soaking into her robes. She had no memory of hurting herself, but then, she had no memory of anything other than the walls around her. The pain subsided a little as she rested, panting heavily from the exertion of standing.

As she lay there, something caught her eye. It was a chain about her neck, with a pendant in the shape of a small bottle. Something about it looked vaguely familiar, but beyond that she could remember nothing about it. It was pretty, though, and she smiled as she saw it begin to glow.

She tried, once again, to stand, but her head was spinning. Sinking back to the ground, she sighed as her mind drifted into unconsciousness, while her fingers still clutched the glowing pendant.

- - -

Searching the tunnels was far more difficult than Snape had expected. Even with Dumbledore and Flitwick doing everything they could to lessen the effect of the spells, the magic was powerful. It was difficult to focus on what he was doing, and at times, he could hardly remember why he was there. He cast his own spells around himself, but without knowing what he would encounter next, this was not a great deal of help. At one point, he had spent almost twenty minutes going in the same small circle, over and over again, until he realized what he had been doing, and berated himself for allowing it to happen. In another area, he had found himself unable to move forward, then finally found that he was trying to walk through the stone wall of the tunnel, but his senses had been fooled into seeing a way through.

He wondered how many of the same things Hermione had encountered. She had been down here for more than twenty four hours, and had had to counteract the spells without the assistance of Dumbledore and Flitwick. One thing that he was relieved to note, however, was that none of the spells seemed actually to cause direct harm. They simply made the subject confused and lost. Apart from the chance of injury by trying to walk through walls, the biggest dangers were that the effects of the spells on the mind might be permanent if used for too long, or that the unwitting explorer, once lost, would never be found. He had to find her quickly, but he had had no idea how large the tunnels were.

It was Madam Hooch who was the first to find any of the students. Ron had been conscious, but babbling incoherently about frogs, and sitting on the floor with his shoes in front of him, studying his bare feet. Hooch had led him by the hand back towards the castle, with only a minor detour to avoid a large talking pig, which she told Professor Binns, on her return, had blocked her way.

"Now I come to think of it," she had muttered, a little embarrassed, "I might have imagined it."

Snape had found out about this on the first of his check-ins back in the main dungeons. Beyond the door where Ron and Harry had seen the Bloody Baron, there were three large chambers, each protected with a password. Snape was still puzzled about how the students had made it so far, when even he had not known all three of the passwords. The tunnels led from the third chamber, and this was where the staff had set up their base. Dumbledore and Flitwick remained here, facing each other and staring, as though locked in a trance, and Poppy Pomfrey was attending to the Weasley boy, looking worried.

"How bad is it?" Snape asked, trying to sound disinterested.

She gave him a puzzled look at his tone, but told him that she could not be sure just yet. "It is possible that some of the damage could be permanent," she said, unhappily, "but I won't be able to tell for a least a few days. It's a good thing we've got to them now, or this might have been worse."

"They are not all out, yet," Snape snapped, then spun round to return to the search.

It was a long time before he reported back, and people were beginning to worry.

"We thought that we'd lost Hagrid, for a while, Professor Sinistra told him. "When Minerva eventually found him, he was standing with his fingers in his ears and refusing to move."

From the other chamber, Snape could hear the raised voices of the deputy headmistress and the groundskeeper.

"I'm alright!" Hagrid was shouting. "I've got ter go an' get 'Arry and "Ermione!"

Minerva McGonagall's voice was impatient. "I am sorry, Hagrid, but I cannot permit you to go back in there. We do not have the time to search for you as well as the students." With that, she stepped back into the main chamber and almost ran into Sybil Trelawney, who was just returning to report in.

"Alas – I wish the outcome of the day's events would be other than those that fate has set out," she said, mistily, to no one in particular. "The Sight is such a curse when one can see tragedy looming and one is able to do nothing to prevent it!"

Snape pushed past the witch, angrily, but McGonagall caught up with him as he left the chamber.

She touched his arm, conspiratorially. "Don't worry, Severus," she said softly. "As long as Sybil is foretelling doom, we have good reason to hope that all will be well."

- - -

Another hour, and the Potions Master was starting to feel like he had never been anywhere but these tunnels. They seemed to shut out all memory of the outside world, and wend their way into the mind as though they were all that existed. If it had not been for running into the Slytherin ghost as he searched, he might have had to be rescued himself, but the sight of the Bloody Baron was enough to make him focus on the task at hand. His heart leaped as he realized that the ghost had seen something, and was leading him down the tunnels. As he turned a corner, he almost tripped over the unconscious form on the ground. Reaching down, he turned it over, to look into the pale face of the woman he loved.

"Hermione!" With joy and horror combined, he lifted her into his arms, and headed back to the school. She had to be alright. She had to be!

His search had taken him a long way into the maze of passages, and the way back would be just as long. Without the help of the Bloody Baron, who moved ahead, making Snape hurry to keep up with him, it would have taken much longer, but finally, they reached the end of the passages and Snape staggered into the chamber in the dungeons.

Exhausted, he lay Hermione's limp body on a stone bench, and knelt beside her, supporting her head tenderly with his arm. Her breathing was shallow and weak, and her face showed no hint of awareness. Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to hers as he recovered his breath.

"Hermione," he murmured softly, then gently kissed her lips.

A gasp from behind him made the outside world, forgotten for a while, come to his mind. Without releasing Hermione, still held in his arms, he looked about him.

The room was full. Harry had, evidently, been found and was laid next to Ron, who was now sedated. The worried form of Hagrid knelt beside them. McGonagall was standing over the two boys, her hand resting lightly on the shoulder of a teary Ginny Weasley, who sat next to her brother. In the corner, Madam Pomfrey was handing a vial of liquid to Madam Hooch, and Dumbledore and Flitwick were finally stirring from their exhaustive trance. With the exception of the unconscious students, every eye in the room was on Professor Snape and the girl in his arms.


	42. Repercussions

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 42 – Repercussions**

For several seconds, nobody said a word.

Snape, ignoring the amazed expressions of his colleagues, turned his attention back to Hermione, looking into her face for any sign to tell him how badly she was hurt.

Finally, the silence was broken by Dumbledore. "I believe that Miss Granger requires your assistance, Poppy," he said softly to the Matron, who shook herself and hurried forward. She knelt at the other side of the stone bench, opposite Snape, with Hermione between them, but as she reached out to support her head, it became clear that Snape had no intention of relinquishing his hold on the girl, and the witch stopped, uncertainly.

"Severus, I need to give her this," she frowned, indicating a small blue bottle. Snape calmly reached out with his free hand, and pried the bottle from her reluctant fingers.

Professor McGonagall now spoke up, also addressing the Matron. "It appears that Severus is in need of your care, also, Poppy," she said, grimly. "He seems to be experiencing some rather powerful effects from his exposure to the charms in the tunnels."

Snape touched the blue bottle to Hermione's lips, and gently poured a few drops into her mouth. "My behavior has nothing to do with spells, Minerva," he said, simply, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face. "I am in love with Hermione."

The response of the deputy head was immediate and shocked. "Don't be ridiculous, Severus," she gasped in amazement. "She is a student."

"I am aware of that," he growled.

Before she could respond, Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, cutting off the response she was attempting to form. "This conversation would be best postponed until the students have been treated," he said firmly. "Let us not forget why we are here."

Three stretchers had already been conjured by Madam Pomfrey, and hung midair, in the center of the chamber. "Thank you, Headmaster," she said, pleased that not everyone was standing around in shock, while there were injured students to be taken care of.

All at once, the onlookers bustled into action.

Professor Flitwick hurried forward to assist Madam Pomfrey in getting Harry and Ron onto stretchers; Professor McGonagall took Ginny by the arm, leading her towards the door; and Professor Dumbledore, stepping past Snape without any clue as to his feelings now that the truth was out, went to assist the still-dazed Madam Hooch.

Gathering Hermione into his arms once again, Snape stood. Hagrid had hurried to grab a stretcher, and steered it towards the Potions Master, but Snape pushed it irritably out of his way. McGonagall and the Weasley girl were ahead of him, standing in the doorway, waiting to accompany the stretchers of Harry and Ron to the Hospital Wing. Both quickly stepped aside to allow him to pass, and his gaze first met that of the elder – shocked and angry – then the younger – too upset over her brother, boyfriend and friend to betray much of a reaction to the behavior of the teacher. As he left the chamber, he could hear, behind him, the voices of the last few teachers returning from the search, led by the ghosts. What would they be told, he wondered?

Not waiting to find out, he strode ahead, with Hermione in his arms.

Despite his insistence to himself that the reaction of the other staff was irrelevant, he knew it not to be true. Personally, he cared nothing for their opinion of him or of his behavior, but if they so chose, they could make things very difficult for Hermione and himself. When Minerva McGonagall had suggested that he was under the influence of the spells from the tunnels, he had, for a moment, considered allowing her theory to stand, but he had quickly dismissed the idea. It would have been plausible enough, true, but it was time for the deception to stop. He loved Hermione, and wanted the world to know it. There had been too many lies told, too many evasions and half-truths. Their relationship deserved better than that. Besides, now that he had been seen to kiss Hermione, his every move would be scrutinized from now on, even if he did manage to convince them that it had meant nothing. Every time he mentioned her name, and ever time she went to the dungeon to work on her project, people would remember, and questions would be asked.

No – the truth was the best option and, despite the difficulties it would bring, it was a relief.

A terrible thought drifted into his mind. A few hours ago, he had been convinced that Hermione would never marry him, and that situation had not changed. If he had decided to let the staff know about them, he could have chosen a better time – a time when he was sure of Hermione's feelings. In all probability, Hermione would tell him that she could not marry him, and all the pending aggravation with the other staff would be for nothing. Fine time to worry about that now, he chided himself. You should have thought of this before kissing her in public.

A movement from Hermione brought his attention to her face as he carried her. She was stirring, but there was no sign of her being aware of her surroundings. She mumbled something incoherently, then let out a soft cry that reached his ears like a knife piercing his heart. She sounded so lost and frightened – he wanted to take all the fear away from her, and let her know nothing but happiness.

"Everything will be okay, Hermione," he whispered, softly, holding her tightly as he continued on his way through the castle. Whether in response to his words, or his tone, or simply a coincidence of timing, he did not know, but Hermione turned slightly in his arms, and buried her face against his shoulder. Her small hand reached up to grip his robes, the knuckles white as she held them.

She looked so young and defenseless. He wanted nothing more in the world than to love her and protect her, and to have her love him in return. Whatever it took, and whatever the obstacles, he had to spend his life with her.

He had, at last, reached the Hospital Wing, and opened the door with a single word. It was only as he laid Hermione tenderly on a bed that he realized just how tired he was, himself. His robes were still in her grip, and he summoned a chair, unwilling to pull away from her. Placing a hand over hers, he studied her face. Now that she was out of the tunnels, the best thing to do was to let her rest and give her time to pull herself out of the grip of the spells that had held her. With nothing more that he could do for the time being, he leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the edge of the bed, and allowed his eyes to close. He had slept little on Friday night, waiting for the promised meeting on Saturday, and it was now the early hours of Sunday morning. Following on from the stressful and worrying week, the events of the weekend were more than his body could stand, and he could hold out no longer. Within a few minutes, he was asleep, lulled by the faint but rhythmic breathing of the girl on the bed.

- - -

Darkness

At the edge of Hermione's consciousness, she became half aware of the blackness about her. It was as though nothing existed – simply emptiness. A vast, open vacuum of nothingness.

She was cold.

Alone.

What might have been a scream tried to escape her. She was panicking – reaching out for something. Anything.

Fear brought her almost to the brink of consciousness – enough to sense something – no someone – close to her. A comforting presence.

A soft cry found its way out of her, but she heard nothing. Frantically, mind and body reached out to clutch at the presence, and she felt warmth about her. Her fingers found something solid and real, and she clasped it with all her strength, afraid that it might slip away, or dissolve into shadow.

Almost instantly, as the touch dulled the edge of her panic, the emptiness about her took told, and she slipped back into darkness.

- - -

Snape woke with a start.

The scene around him had changed. Two more beds were occupied, and the young Weasley girl sat between them, looking as though she had spent several hours crying. She was watching him as he lifted his head, and somehow it made him feel self-conscious in a way that he knew McGonagall or any other member of staff would not. Her gaze was neither accusing nor judging – she was simply studying him.

Hiding his discomfort at the attention, he looked down at Hermione. There was no sign of change, and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully, still oblivious to her surroundings. He knew it was a good sign – Poppy Pomfrey had said that she would need rest – but he was longing to see her open her eyes. Regretfully, he tore himself away from her, and looked up to meet the watching eyes of her friend.

"You're Hermione's boyfriend," she said simply.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Hardly the word I would have chosen, Ms. Weasley," he responded in a low rumble, "but correct, nonetheless."

"Don't you think you're too old for her?"

Her forthrightness surprised him, and he felt a little annoyed at himself that she was managing to make him feel so uncomfortable. "Ms. Granger does not seem to think so," he frowned. "Not that it is any of your business."

The girl shrugged. "I suppose not."

She turned her attention to the room's other occupants – first her brother, then Potter.

Unable to resist the jibe, Snape smirked. "It would appear that you prefer older men, yourself!"

Snape watched in satisfied amusement, as her face flushed red, but then regretted his remark immediately, when he saw her face crumple, and her eyes fill with tears. Proud of yourself, he demanded? Hardly up to your usual standard – bullying someone so defenseless. You usually at least have the decency to make sure that they deserve it, or that they will learn from it. Angry at the fact that he had taken such petty pleasure from her hurt reaction, he searched for a way out. Obviously, whatever she saw in the Potter boy – and he could not imagine what that could be – could not match what he felt for Hermione, but the girl was still in pain. He felt, at some level, an affinity with her, and taking out his frustration at his own weakness on her should be beneath him.

Reaching for his wand, he gave a flick, and a bar of chocolate materialized on the table beside her brother's bed. "Eat," he commanded, gruffly. "You need it."

She seemed startled by the incongruence of his actions and manner, but nodded, reaching for the bar. Then it was the Potions Master's turn to be caught off guard, as she broke the bar in two, and tossed one towards him.

"Looks like you need this as much as I do," she sniffed. Her head was bent, and there were tears running down her face as she nibbled the chocolate. Snape took a bite, unsure of what to say. In the whole school, there were few people who would be less able to cope with a crying child than he.

"Any change in the patients?" he asked, awkwardly.

She shook her head. "Madam Pomfrey said they'd sleep for hours."

Frustrated at not being able to do anything useful, he stood. He hated to leave Hermione, but he had to find out more from the matron about her condition. He was not particularly happy to hear that she had gone to the staff room, but the girl informed him that there were two ghost nurses who could summon her quickly, if required. Relieved to be getting away from the student, and assured that she would call for him at the slightest sign of change, he told her he would be back soon, and stepped out of the ward.

- - -

Out in the corridor, he paused to wonder how long he had slept. Judging form the number of students about, he guessed that it was mid morning, so he had slept for several hours. He was aching and stiff. It must have been a deep sleep, he realized, as the other two patients had been brought in without waking him. The sight of himself and Hermione would have been surprising, to say the least, to whomever had been into the ward. The secret was definitely out now.

The students he passed all seemed to be discussing something very intently, and he felt sure that several turned to watch him as he strode towards the staff room. Did they know? He supposed that they must do. Damn! This was not what he had bargained for. Until now, he had been only considering the reaction of the staff – plus the Weasley girl, of course. How could he have allowed things to become such a mess?

Well – there would be plenty of time for self-recrimination later. Now, the priority was to find Pomfrey for news about Hermione.

Sunday morning was not normally a busy time in the staff room, but then this was not a typical Sunday. The buzz of conversation that met his ears as he entered died to silence as his presence was noticed. Closing the door behind him, he reflected that this had to happen sometime, so now was as good a time as any. He scanned the room. Dumbledore was not there, but he was one of the few staff members who were absent. Even some of the ghosts were there – the ones most actively involved in the day-to-day business of the school, that was. The room's occupants were regarding him with a mixture of puzzlement, interest, disgust and, in particular, outrage. Spotting Pomfrey across the room, he headed towards her, every eye following him.

He spoke directly to her, but in a voice that carried through the room. "How badly injured is Hermione Granger?" he asked. There was no longer a need to pretend that he was equally concerned for all the students. Everyone knew exactly where his interest lay.

The Matron's voice was cold. "It is impossible to tell at present, Severus. I will have a better idea in a few hours, when they wake, but for now they must have their rest."

"Then why are you not in the Hospital Wing, taking care of them?" Snape demanded.

Minerva McGonagall had been standing a few paces behind Pomfrey, and now spoke up, her anger clear. "How dare you speak like that, Severus?" she snapped. "Poppy's presence there is not necessary, while they are sleeping, and Hermione Granger's welfare is about far more than just the state of her health!"

Snape stiffened. "Just what is your point, Minerva?"

"My point is that Miss Granger is a Gryffindor student, under my care," she responded, icily, "and I would like to know what is going on between you."

Everyone in the room was staring intently at Snape, and for a moment, he considered telling them that this was none of their business. But what good would that do? He did not need their approval, but if he antagonized the entire staff, things would be difficult, even with Dumbledore's lenient attitude. He took a deep breath. "Hermione Granger and I have been ... together ... almost since the start of the school year."

Whatever the staff had expected, it was clearly not that. Maybe they had thought that this was just some brief fling, or that the feelings were all on his part. They looked stunned at his statement.

Hagrid's voice came from behind him, and Snape turned to see the shock on his face. "But ... but, 'Ermione's jus' a kid," he stammered, indignantly. "Yer supposed ter be a teacher!"

"Do you doubt Hermione's competence to make her own decisions?" Snape demanded, knowing that there would be no one in the room who would question her maturity.

McGonagall rounded on him, impatiently. "That is not the point, Severus! She is a student. We are teachers. Every one of us has a responsibility for those entrusted to our care."

"I am aware of my responsibility," Snape snarled.

This provoked an angry question from Madam Pomfrey. "And just how _responsible_ were you at Christmas?" she demanded.

The puzzled looks from the other staff showed that they did not understand Pomfrey's words, but Snape had heard their meaning well enough. She had a point – how could he deny it?

Realization suddenly seemed to dawn on McGonagall's face, and she went white. "Things have gone that far?"

Hagrid took a step forward at this. "YOU MEAN HE'S ... " he bellowed, then stopped, unwilling to voice his thoughts.

Professor Vector, next to him, placed a firm hand on his arm, holding him back. "How could you, Severus?" she asked in a shocked voice. "She is a child!"

"Hardly!" retorted Nearly Headless Nick, from the back of the room. "I've been dead for centuries, and even I can tell she's no child!" It was not exactly support or approval, but this was not what Snape had expected – particularly from the Gryffindor ghost.

But others were less than convinced. "She's seventeen!" Sprout spat, but Snape's correction to 'eighteen' was reluctantly backed up by McGonagall.

"I am afraid that Severus is correct," she conceded. "Miss Granger used a time-turner during her third year, to attend extra classes. With the time she added, she is, in fact, eighteen years of age."

Pomfrey did not seem to see this as relevant. "Her age makes no difference. She is a student. Frankly, I am amazed that the Headmaster has allowed this to continue."

This was something Snape had been wondering. "What has Dumbledore told you?" he asked, cautiously.

"I have told them," said Dumbledore's quiet voice from the doorway, "that I disapprove very strongly, but in the light of your feelings, and those of Miss Granger, I do not feel it appropriate to interfere." No one had heard the headmaster enter the room, and they now parted to allow him through to where Snape stood. "I believe we agreed that this would remain secret, Severus," he continued, then addressed the whole room. "I must re-emphasize my insistence that the students to do not find out about this."

McGonagall's face was enraged. "Surely you do not mean that you are going to allow this to continue, Headmaster?" she asked, incredulously. Snape, along with the rest of the staff, waited in suspense for Dumbledore's answer.

"As I said, Minerva" Dumbledore continued, gravely, "I do not approve. However, the feelings of Miss Granger must be taken into consideration. I have to admit that the young woman is deeply in love with Severus – and I believe that he has made his own emotions quite clear."

The deputy head was speechless at this. Snape knew how much she respected the head's decisions, but clearly this was pushing the limit of her trust. The best thing to do now was to allow things to calm down.

"I have been away from the Hospital Wing for too long," he said softly. "I must return." Leaving the other staff staring between the Headmaster and his own retreating back, he strode from the room and headed back to his beloved Hermione.

All in all, he reflected, that could have been worse.

- - -

The first thing Hermione was aware of as she woke was hunger. She was famished, and her stomach was almost painful.

She opened her eyes, and was about to push back the covers, when she realized that this was not her room. This wasn't even her home. Where were the bookshelves that her dad had built at the foot of her bed? No – wait. Of course she was not at home. This was Hogwarts.

Vague memories of the strange dreams she had been having were popping into her head and confusing her. She was still half asleep. Hogwarts. She glanced about her, noticing Ginny Weasley in a chair nearby. That wasn't right. Ginny should not be in this dorm – the second year dorms were ... wait ... that wasn't right, either.

Wake up, Hermione, she told herself, sternly, trying to shake the sleep out of her head. She had to focus. This did not even look like one of the Gryffindor dormitories.

The door opened, and a tall figure in long flowing robes entered, making Hermione's heart sink. Strange things were going on, and she could not seem to get reality into focus, but of all the people that could have just entered, why did it have to be the teacher she hated most? She had no idea what he could be doing here, and was even more amazed when she saw that he was heading straight for her bed. She sat up, quickly, clutching the covers to her chest, and shrinking back as he approached.

His face wore the strangest expression she had ever seen on him – no hint of the usual anger or derision – and she could not make it out at all. As he neared, her instinct was to reach for her wand, but there was no time for that as he reached her, sat heavily on the edge of the bed, facing her, and pulled her roughly towards him.

"Hermione!"

The wind was knocked out of her by his unexpected and unwelcome embrace. She pushed him forcefully away, knocking him from the edge of the bed and backwards, onto the floor, where he landed with a groan.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Snape?" she shouted. "Get away from me!""

He stood, looking surprised and horrified, and backed away from her as Ginny ran around the bed to stand between them.

"It's okay, Hermione," the younger girl said, soothingly. "Don't worry." She stepped forward, and mirrored Snape's actions, sitting down on the edge of the bed and putting her arms around Hermione.

Dazed and confused, Hermione found that she was trembling as she watched Snape warily. He was standing beyond the foot of the bed, staring at her with those cold black eyes, his face pale. He looked ill, she thought, without compassion. Well, maybe that explains the strange behavior.

Closing her eyes against the sight of him, she clung to Ginny. "What's going on?" she whispered.


	43. All in the Mind

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 43 – All in the Mind**

"You said you wanted to see us, Sir?" Bale's voice was hesitant as he and Gem stepped into Snape's office. Hardly surprising that they were a little nervous – the Potions Master's summons had been rather cryptic, demanding that they report to his office immediately.

Snape had been pacing the office, waiting for them, and he now stood by the fire, gesturing the two students to armchairs. They sat, glancing uneasily at each other, wondering what this was all about.

They were not kept waiting for long. "I require your assistance," said Snape, getting straight to the point. "There is a particularly difficult potion that I must make, and cannot brew it alone. Having seen you both work, I know that you have attained a certain level of competence in the subject, and your assistance would be appreciated."

It was now more than a week since Hermione had been taken to the hospital wing, and there had been little change. Sometimes she remembered their relationship, other times she did not. On occasion, she thought that she was back in junior school, and could remember nothing about Hogwarts, and other times, it was as though things were perfectly normal. Two days ago, she had told him about how she, Potter and Weasley had reached the lake caverns, and seen a dark, looming shadow in the water, but yesterday she had not known his name.

Her fragmented memory seemed to come and go at random, and it was agonizing for him. The occasions when she remembered their relationship were rare. Mostly she either could not remember him at all, or knew him only as the teacher she despised, and he could not decide which of the two was worst. At least when she did not know who he was, he was free to sit by her bed and talk or read to her. When she remembered him as Professor Snape, it was clear that his presence was not welcome, and he had on occasion, been driven from the room by either Hermione herself, or by Pomfrey, who claimed that he was upsetting her patient.

At first, Pomfrey's advice had been to allow Hermione's memory to heal naturally, but as the days had progresses, he had finally managed to persuade her that intervention was required. Hermione's memory was shattered, like a mirror broken into a thousand tiny pieces, and would take some drastic action to repair. Time alone would not be sufficient.

The potion that he wanted to use was extremely delicate. The ingredients were not difficult to obtain, but had to be measured precisely. During the brewing, timing was everything. A moment off, and the whole thing would be ruined. Snape had reviewed his options carefully, before speaking to the two boys. He had considered requesting the assistance of Pomfrey herself, but, while the matron was an expert in the use of potions, she was not an accomplished brewer. Having narrowed the list to his more accomplished students, his first choice would, naturally, have been Hermione, but he had confidence in the two Hufflepuffs, and they agreed at once.

For two nights, the three of them worked diligently, preparing the ingredients, and planning for how the potion would be created. By the time the third night came – the night that they would do the actual brewing – they each knew their part like a well-rehearsed play. Starting immediately after an early dinner, they worked solidly for over six hours. Everything had gone exactly according to plan, and all that was left was to leave the final mixture simmering for precisely thirteen minutes, before pouring and bottling, ready for use. It had been a tiring operation, with no chance for any lapse in concentration, and the three were exhausted. Finally, holding up the precious bottle of carefully stoppered brew, Snape nodded in satisfaction.

"Your assistance has been invaluable," he told them, sincerely. "Well done."

Both boys knew the reason for the potion, and the patient who would receive it – the school had been told part of the story of the tunnels by Dumbledore – but a new understanding seemed to pass between students and teacher as they regarded the completed concoction. For one second, Snape was sure he could see in their eyes that they knew the truth of his feelings. Was it because of the last few days, he wondered, or had they always known? And yet, it did not matter. With the knowledge that they knew his secret, came the certainty that they would keep it to themselves. Requiring no words to confirm the silent exchange, the three nodded, then set off up the stairs to the main castle. With a final glance at the Potions Master as they reached the top of a large staircase, the students headed right, towards their house, leaving the teacher to take the precious bottle to the patient.

- - -

An hour later, Snape was regretting ever thinking of brewing the potion for Hermione. He had known the effect it would have, but he had not been quite prepared for the reality. Hermione was curled up tightly, in terrible pain. Pomfrey had prepared a lotion for her skin, which had been applied to counteract the burning of the potion, but the pain was still unbearable. She had been moved to a small room on her own, to avoid disturbing the other patients with the effects of her treatment, and Snape and Pomfrey remained with her while the potion worked its magic. Unable to touch her, to avoid causing further pain, Snape was forced to stand by and listen to her heartbreaking cries. He paced the room like a caged tiger, while Pomfrey sat by the patient's bed.

Finally, Hermione's pain seemed to ease. Her cries lessened, then stopped, and her piteous, half-conscious state changed to a deep and peaceful sleep. Her breathing was regular and soft, and there was a serenity on her face that he had not seen for so long.

Shape had not slept that night, and as the dawn approached, he longed to curl up in the chair next to Hermione's bed, and sleep, close to her. Unfortunately, this was not possible. Apart from the fact that the matron insisted Hermione be left in total peace to sleep, and refused to allow Snape to remain, he had classes to teach. With a final look at her sleeping face, he bent to kiss her lips – much to the disapproval of the matron – and left the room.

As he stepped through the main ward of the hospital wing, he paused to regard the other two sleeping students. Each had been affected very differently by their adventure. Weasley had evidently been hit by more than his fair share of hallucinogenic spells, and had told stories of strange, furry creatures that exploded when he touched them, and a team of large fish on broomsticks, holding a Quidditch practice in the tunnels. Not to mention the frogs – which seemed to occupy his thoughts in some rather strange ways! The visions he had been having were gradually fading, and every day he was calmer and less prone to fits of uncontrollable giggling. A few days, Pomfrey had predicted, and he would be back to normal.

Potter was another story. It was getting close to two weeks since they had been pulled from the tunnels, and in all that time, he had not regained consciousness. He was sleeping soundly, and nothing Pomfrey had done could wake him, but she could find nothing wrong with him.

The teacher stared at the two as they slept, anger curling his fingers into fists. If they wanted to be reckless and stupid, whey couldn't they do it alone? Why drag Hermione into their hair-brained schemes? Potter had always been one to interfere in things that were nothing to do with him. He should realize that if things were hidden or protected, it was for a reason. Doors were not locked and passages concealed just for the fun of it. It was time those boys grew up – or at least put only themselves in danger, without involving others. They had seen him angry before, but that was nothing compared to what they would face when they had recovered. They would learn not to endanger the woman he loved!

At that moment, the door to Hermione's room opened, and the matron stepped out, closing it softly behind her. "Something wrong, Severus?" she asked.

Snape shook his head. "Nothing," he growled, then turned to the door, to head for the Great Hall and some breakfast.

- - -

It was many hours before Hermione woke, feeling more comfortable and relaxed than she had done in what felt like a very long time. Her memories of the last two weeks were like waking nightmares, in which she had been constantly in pain and confusion. Some parts of it, she could remember clearly – such as how she had not known Severus when she had first regained consciousness, and Ron's ridiculously infectious giggling, during his last visit. Other parts were only vague and frightening images. She felt weak and tired, but at last her mind was clear. She knew who and where she was – and for someone who had always prized her intellect above all, it was a joy to feel that the ordeal of confusion was finally over.

Shaking with the effort, she slowly pulled herself to a sitting position in the bed, and looked about. On the table next to the bed, a large vase of flowers was surrounded by cards, and her wand was resting on top of a pile of books. But what was far more interesting to her right now was the sleeping figure of Severus Snape.

She smiled as she watched him. He was in an armchair, which looked very comfortable for sitting in, but not at all for sleeping. His head was twisted at an awkward angle, and his face was pale and worried. Poor Severus. He must have been through Hell. How could she not have known him? She could remember clearly the dislike she had felt when he walked in the other day, asking how she was. She had wondered why he was taking an interest – sure that he must be up to something.

If she had never fully regained her memory, would she have fallen for him again, she wondered?

They had been brought together by his act of violence and violation. Despite the pain and trauma, it had given her a glimpse into his passionate and deeply scarred soul. Without seeing that dark side of his being, would she ever have been able to know and understand him the way she did now? She would never be able to answer that.

All she knew was that she loved him with all her heart.

As she watched him, contemplating the strong features and soft black hair that she adored, he stirred, and his dark eyes opened to meet hers. Immediately, he stood, took a step forward, then stopped, hesitantly. It appeared that he did not want a repetition of the last time he had approached her. To dispel his fears, Hermione opened her arms to him.

"Severus," she said, softly.

The worry on her lover's face seemed to melt away in that instant, and he took the three steps forward to take her in his arms.

"Hermione," he murmured, huskily into her ear. She held him tightly, the feel of his body seeming to give her the strength she needed. His touch was tender, as though afraid to hurt her. "I've been so worried about you, my darling." He pulled back, to look into her face. "Are you sure you are ... ?"

The pain on his face wrenched at her heart as his voice trailed off. "I'm fine, Severus," she told him, wanting to see all his fears leave him. "I know exactly who you are, and I love you!"

Still trembling, she lifted a weak hand to touch his face, then pulled him toward her. Their lips met, and the warmth of his touch spread through her body like rays of sunlight breaking through clouds to reach the darkest shadows. As their tongues touched, Hermione felt like her heart would burst with the joy of being with him. She felt his hands caressing her back, as they kissed – his arms encircling her body and holding her close. It felt so good.

The sound of the door slamming startled them both, and they released each other with a shock. Madam Pomfrey was standing inside the doorway, looking furious.

Snape stood quickly and stepped away from the bed. "My apologies, Poppy," he muttered. "I ... "

Pomfrey cut him off. "Severus, I have to ask you to leave," she snapped. "I cannot allow this kind of behavior. This is a hospital!"

"No," rumbled Snape, softly but firmly. ""It will not happen again, but I will remain here." He gazed levelly at the matron, as though daring her to challenge him.

After staring at him for a few moments, her shoulders sagged a little. "Very well," she conceded at last, "but you will both," she glanced at Hermione, as she said this, then back to Snape, "conduct yourselves with some control."

"You have my word," Snape told her, "I will not touch her." As though to prove his sincerity, he moved to the armchair and sat down, watching as the matron checked on her patient.

When Madam Pomfrey finally left, she gave each of the lovers a hard stare, and a reminder of "You gave me your word." With that, she left the room, looking less than comfortable, and with an expression that showed her disapproval of the whole situation.

Hermione sighed as the door closed, and she was left alone with Severus. He was watching her, his head tilted to one side, and a mischievous glint in his eye. She smiled. Whatever he was thinking – and she knew his expressions well enough by now – she liked. But after what Madam Pomfrey had just said, she did not suppose that acting on those thoughts would be a good idea.

"Severus," she said, smiling coyly, "you promised Madam Pomfrey!"

A smile touched the corner of his mouth, but his voice remained low. "I said that I would not touch you," he rumbled, "and I have no intention of breaking my word."

What was he up to, she wondered? A moment later, she began to understand, and she felt a soft tingling on the inside of her thigh. She gasped, then giggled. "What are you doing?" she half laughed, half whispered, with a glance at the door. Snape said nothing, but a moment later, she felt a touch on her shoulder. No – not exactly a touch – she couldn't define it exactly. She had felt it, like a physical touch, but she knew that there was nothing there – somehow real and unreal at the same time.

Whatever it was, she liked it. It had been so long since she had felt his intimate caress, and she needed him. His eyes were on her – dark and lustful – and it was making her want him so much. His 'touch' had been only the beginning – she knew that he could – and intended to – do far more to her eager body, without leaving his chair. Meeting his eyes, she smiled. The thought of him being able to do that was intriguing and very arousing. Already her body was responding, as she felt a warm tingle run down her back. Slowly, she slid from her sitting position to lie down, closing her eyes, and lifting her arms over her head to stretch out her body openly for him. Whatever he wanted to do, she was giving her body unreservedly to him, to do with as he would.

The touch she felt on her skin was so delicate she could scarcely feel it – like fingers moving over her, just close enough to feel their warmth, without making contact with her body. It started at her fingertips, and moved down her arms, her sides, her legs – finally ending at her toes – relaxing and soothing her whole body. She sighed as she surrendered completely to the sensation.

She could feel his hands on her body, even though she knew he was not touching her. No longer aware of the contact of the bed on her body as his mind reached out, she seemed to be floating – touched by nothing but him. The tender caresses of his hands on her breasts – the warmth of his breath on her neck – the soft strokes of his fingers on her thighs. It was like nothing she had ever experienced – so dreamlike, yet so physically powerful that her body was responding with deep sighs, and melting as though it had no form of its own, other than which his mind gave it.

The sensations deepened in their intensity, and she let out a gasping moan of pleasure. His touch was reaching her most sensitive areas, bringing mind and body to a feverish ecstasy that consumed her whole being. Holding her at the height of her climax for longer than she thought possible, he finally allowed her a release, which left her simultaneously drained and exhilarated.

Slowly, her body returned from its high, and she lay in breathless contentment.

She felt his lips against her face and warm breath on her cheek, as her name was murmured into her ear. Turning her face to meet his as she whispered his name, she reached for his kiss, but found nothing there. Her eyes opened to see him still in his chair, his own dark eyes intensely focused on her. He had not moved.

His touch had been so real. How could he have done that? Well – whatever it was, it had been incredible, and the expression on his face showed that he knew just how much it had affected her. For now, how he had done it would remain his secret, but she would have to find out more about that particular type of magic!

There was something contemplative and serious in his face as he watched her. "I never could have imagined I would be so much in love," he told her, quietly.

Hermione smiled. "There is something that I should have told you, before now, Severus," she whispered. "Yes."

A slight puzzlement appeared in his eyes, and he tilted his head in silent question.

"Yes," she repeated, softly. "I would love to marry you."


	44. A Walk in the Moonlight

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 44 – A Walk in the Moonlight**

It was two days after Hermione got her memory back that Madam Pomfrey finally allowed her to leave the hospital wing. She did not look at all happy about having to let her leave, which Hermione supposed was because she would then be out of the matron's supervision.

Hermione was immensely relieved to be free. Apart from the obvious advantages of being able to spend her nights in Severus' room, she also had her exams and project to think about. She had been able to do some work, with Ginny bringing her books from her room or the library, but she would be glad to be getting back to classes. She had missed two full weeks, and had a lot of catching up to do. The last two weeks in March were the Easter holidays, which left her only a week to catch up to the rest of the class if she wanted to make the best use of the holidays for exam revision and her project.

It was Sunday afternoon, and she was in her room deciding which books to take to the library. She had planned an afternoon of catching up, having already asked the other students for the homework assignments she had missed, then a quiet dinner with Severus. Her bag over her shoulder, she opened the door to leave, to find Professor McGonagall coming along the hallway towards her room. Her face was serious, but otherwise unreadable.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," she said. "I wonder if we might have a few moments?"

This was a little surprising – it was very unusual for Professor McGonagall to go to a student's room. Even during Hermione's first five years, when students shared dormitories, she could not remember the Head of House going in there more than half a dozen times, but the girl smiled and stepped back, allowing the teacher inside. Hermione sat cross-legged on the bed, and Crookshanks immediately took advantage of this to sit on her lap, purring.

"I will come straight to the point, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall began, sitting down on the room's only chair. "I need to be sure that the relationship between yourself and Professor Snape is not in any way a danger to your welfare. I know that you care deeply for Professor Snape, but I am worried about the speed at which the relationship is progressing. You are very young to be having sexual relations with a man so much older than you, regardless of whether he is a teacher."

Hermione decided that being straightforward about this, and speaking her mind would be the best option. "That's my choice," she said, simply. "I don't feel that I am too young. I love Severus."

The teacher gave her a hard stare. "Was your relationship the reason for your choice of project?"

"No. It was when I started working on the project that we got to know each other. Then things just ... happened."

"And your Potions N.E.W.T.?"

Hermione nodded. "We thought that things might be simpler if Severus was not my teacher." McGonagall seemed worried by this, and Hermione hurriedly continued. "But we wouldn't think of it just for that reason. I am ready for this exam, and it will leave me extra time next year to concentrate on my other subjects. Severus wouldn't allow his relationship with me to affect his professional judgment."

McGonagall considered this for several moments, then nodded slowly, accepting her student's reasoning. "I think I understand. Hermione, I do not approve of this at all, but it does not appear that I have any other choice than to accept it." She sighed. "You seem very clear on your own feelings, and I know that I can trust you to act with maturity. I just do not wish to see you hurt." She gazed at Hermione for a long moment, then stood, and turned to the door. As Hermione stood, McGonagall turned back, drew the student into a brief and awkward hug, then left.

- - -

Getting back to her lessons felt wonderful for Hermione. It seemed perfect that the first was Potions, and she enjoyed watching Severus work. He stood at the front of the classroom, explaining the day's task as the class listened attentively. Failure to listen to every detail could lead to an error in the potion, and the teacher would not accept that. She had heard the story of how Ron had been evicted from the class in the previous lesson. Seemingly fine, Ron had returned to lessons the week before. Everything had gone well until the practical part of the class, when he had begun pouring ingredients onto the desk instead of into a cauldron. The liquid had eaten part way through the desk without Ron even noticing, and he had no idea why the Potions Master had been so angry. Although his mind was considerably clearer now, Madam Pomfrey had felt it would be safer to keep him out of classes until he was fully recovered.

Hermione listened to the sound of her lover's voice – calm and commanding. His intense eyes took in every movement around the room as his students copied down his words onto parchment. When the class got out their cauldrons to prepare their brew – a potion to improve hearing – she was aware of his every step as he circled, vulture-like, watching for any sign of a wrong move. He approached closely behind her, and leaned over her shoulder – his face close enough to feel his breathing. In a softly ominous voice, just loud enough for the whole room to hear, he murmured, "I trust, Ms. Granger, that your memory has recovered sufficiently to remember what a cauldron is for."

Hermione flushed red. His presence – his voice – affected her in the way that she was sure he had intended, and the color in her cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment. The Slytherins laughed, and Snape straightened and moved away.

"I'd heard that she couldn't even remember her own name a few days ago," came Malfoy's drawl. "That's what you get for hanging about in the dungeons, when you don't belong here, Mudblood!"

A cruel smile touched Snape's lips as he returned to his desk, satisfied with the little disturbance he had just caused.

The rest of Hermione's classes went well, despite some rather awkward moments with the teachers. Mostly, they seemed to stare at her with interest, but some were decidedly cool. Hermione balanced her time between homework, her project, and visiting Harry, who had still not woken,in the hospital wing. On Thursday evening,Hermione wasworkingon her project,when the Gryffindor Ghost came gliding through the dungeon wall, looking extremely pleased.

"Hermione," he said, happily. "Good news. Harry is awake!"

Finally! She just hoped that he was okay. "How is he?" she asked, dreading the response.

Nick refused to give her any further information, but his expression told her she had nothing to worry about. "Go and see for yourself," he laughed.

- - -

The hospital wing was full of laughter as Hermione entered. She had expected to see Harry in the bed, with the others around him, but he was perched comfortably on the edge, looking perfectly fine. Ginny was sitting next to him, her hand resting on his.

"Harry," she exclaimed, "you look great!"

Harry grinned at her. "I heard that you both had some problems," he laughed, indicating Ron. "Weird effects of those caves. I feel like I've just woken up from a quick nap."

Ron and Hermione told Harry all the news about what had been happening during his sleep, and they had a lot of catching up to do. They talked at length about what they could remember of the caves, then the conversation switched to the subject of Quidditch. The final would be on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays, and the captain of the Gryffindor team was eager to make up for lost time.

The students chatted happily together, until Madam Pomfrey finally decided that it was time for the girls to leave. "Mr. Weasley may stay," she said, "as he does not have classes tomorrow. The rest of you – time for bed." As Hermione left, with Ginny, the two boys were pulling out Ron's chess set. It was very strange to see them. Harry looked as though there was nothing at all wrong, while Ron was still having occasional strange fits of giggles. Still – it was good to see him awake, at last.

- - -

The night breeze played against the faces of the two lovers as they sat, looking across the Hogwarts grounds, towards the castle. The moonlight bathed the world in a silvery light, giving everything in their sights a mysterious stillness, as though the scene were frozen in time. They gazed out, simply enjoying each other's presence on this beautiful night.

Hermione rested her head on Snape's shoulder. "I wrote to my parents today," she told him.

"Indeed?" His voice showed his wariness of this news. Nothing relating to Hermione's parents had ever boded well for him.

"I told them that we had talked about moving in together at the end of the school year. They'll hate the idea, but it's better than telling them we're engaged!"

Even though Hermione and Snape both felt they should wait to get married, it had been taken for granted by both that when school finished they would be going to Haven.

"I wish that things were easier between you and your parents," Snape said softly. "I hate the thought of there being a rift between you."

Hermione sighed. "I know," she replied, sadly, "but it can't be helped. They will just have to accept it." A thought crossed her mind. "Speaking of acceptance, have the other staff said much more?" She had heard the whole story about how the staff had found out, and the incident in the staffroom.

Snape shook his head. "Poppy Pomfrey wants to hex me, I think, and Sprout and Sinister are not far behind her. I think your chat with McGonagall made a difference, though. She was almost civil to me this afternoon."

That was a relief for Hermione. Their little heart-to-heart had obviously had some effect. It was Hagrid's reaction that was worrying her most, though. That morning, she had passed him in the corridor, and he had turned away from her.She was sure she heard him sniff loudly as he disappeared in the other direction.

"Hagrid has been avoiding me, also," he confirmed. "He has not said a word to me since he found out."

The thought of Hagrid not speaking to either of them upset Hermione more than anyone else's reaction, because it was so unexpected. Hagrid had always been a great believer in Hermione's abilities, andhis support of Dumbledore's trust in Snape had been unshakeable.

"I'll try to talk to him again," she decided. "I can't stand the thought of him being like this, 'though I suppose we didn't really expect many people to be happy for us!"

It was getting late, and the two stood, to begin a slow stroll back to the castle, talking softly as they went.

"I had a visit from Mr. Baddock Junior this morning," Snape said suddenly. "I am beginning to think that his skills in manipulation and blackmail are somewhat lacking."

Ordinarily, this would have caused Hermione to worry, but the tone of Snape's voice did not seem to contain any concern. "What makes you say that?" she asked.

There was a hint of amusement in the reply. "For a start, the threat he is using no longer carries any weight. He is still threatening to go to Dumbledore."

"Why not just tell him, and get him off your back?" Hermione asked.

The response from Snape was grim. "It is imperative that we keep the truth from the other students for now," he said. "Dumbledore made it clear that he wants this to remain secret, and he is not happy that the staff know. If he starts getting howlers from parents and governors,things may become difficult for him. In time, the staff will be forced to accept us, and until then we should avoid having to fight the whole world at once."

She knew he was right. "I just hate the thought of Malcolm thinking he has the upper hand."

Snape nodded. "Do not worry about Mr. Baddock. For now he is asking for small things –he is still reveling in his victory over getting onto the Quidditch team. As soon as he asks for something that I do not wish to give him, I will put an end to it."

"And allow him to tell the other students?" asked Hermione.

Snape's response was almost a laugh. "I thought you knew me better than that, Ms. Granger!" he exclaimed. "The day I decide I have had enough of this game, will be the day Malcolm Baddock regrets ever taking on the master. He will never tell anyone about us, I promise you!"

At the back of Hermione's mind was a strange feeling of sympathy for the Slytherin student. She was not quite sure that she wanted to know what Snape had in mind, but Baddock was clearly in for a rough time. "And this is how the Head of Slytherin shapes the minds of his students, is it?" she teased.

Snape's replywas cut off as they rounded the corner of one of the greenhouses and almost walked into Hagrid. All three stopped, and it was clear that the Groundskeeper had heard them. "Someone there?" Hagrid asked suspiciously, looking in the right direction, but unable to see anything.

Hermione broke her invisibility spell and Snape followed her lead, appearing at her side.

"Oh, it's you two!"

Hagrid regarded Hermione with a disappointed and hurt expression, but when he turned to the other teacher, she was horrified to see loathing in his face. Snape started to speak Hagrid's name, but was cut off.

"I trusted you, Professor," Hagrid spat. "All that time when ev'ryone said Dumbledore were mad te take yer into the school, I accepted yer, 'cos I thought Dumbledore couldn't ha' made a mistake. But he were wrong about yer." Anger was rising up in Hagrid's face and voice. "Yer nothin' but a lyin', 'orrible bastard. 'Ermione deserves better than you." He took a step forward to Snape, who stood his ground, looking up at the angry man.

Snape's voice was dangerously low. "I do not have to answer to you, Hagrid," he said, coldly, "but I will tell you this. You are correct – Hermione does deserve better than I, but she loves me and I love her. For Hermione's sake, I hope you can accept that."

Reaching to put a hand on Hagrid's arm, Hermione smiled up, hoping to convince him of her feelings, but it had no effect.

Hagrid looked down at her, then back to Snape. "Yer a teacher. The thought of yer touchin' 'er makes me want ter be sick." His voice cracked slightly. "It's jus' ... wrong!"

With that, he pushed past Snape and hurried off into the night.


	45. Progression

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 45 – Progression**

The Easter holidays passed quickly. Hermione's project was officially due in the middle of May, but at the request of Grendel Moldbury Arkletan, through Dumbledore, she had promised to complete it by the end of April, and worked diligently, determined not to let either of them down.

She also spent a lot of time on her revision. Despite her friends' infuriating insistence that the exams were over two months away, to Hermione they were looming worryingly close. Between revising for the usual end of term exams, and the upcoming Potions N.E.W.T., her time was as full during the holidays as during term time.

One thing she made certain she made time for, though, was watching as many of Harry's daily Quidditch practices as she could, with Ron. After his long sleep, Harry had shown no other effects of the time spent in the tunnels, and Ron's strange lapses had, by the end of the vacation, all but disappeared.

Once school started again, her two friends were both back to lessons. Although they grumbled about this, Hermione knew that they were glad to be back. Even Snape's snide comments during their first lesson could not dampen their spirits too much. The Potions Master was not at all happy to see the two returning to class, and made his feelings known.

"Very convenient, Potter, that your miraculous recovery occurred the day before the holidays," he growled. "And as for you, Weasley, any repetition of your previous lesson's lunacy, and you will regret ever stepping back into my dungeon."

Out of the teacher's sight, Ron rolled his eyes. He regretted _every_ time he stepped into the dungeon classroom!

Snape's comments continued throughout the lesson, until at the end, he told them both to remain behind, to collect the assignments they had missed. "I am very much aware of the fact that you wasted the last two weeks on Quidditch practice, instead of worrying about trivialities like schoolwork!"

Hermione suspected that the reason for his increased antagonism towards them had something to do with the tunnels. Undoubtedly, he blamed them for what had happened. Well, just let him dare to say so, and she would put him straight, very fast! She had hardly been led down to the tunnels – she had chosen to go, and was as much responsible for their misadventure as they. Waiting behind with her friends, she watched Snape carefully. He must have seen her warning look, as he seemed about to speak, then changed his mind at the last minute. Handing the boys their homework assignments, he gave them a snarling lecture about expecting high standards, and the fact that their time in the hospital wing did not entitle them to leniency, but with regard to anything else he prudently chose to bite his lip.

However badly Snape treated them, Ron and Harry were too excited at the prospect of the upcoming Quidditch match to take much notice. Once again, the final would be between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Gryffindor were clear favorites, despite the opposition's impressive performance since Baddock had joined the team. The fact that they were going into the match sixty points down, due to Slytherin's early victory against Hufflepuff, did not worry the Gryffindor team in the slightest. As long as they did not let the Slytherins more than eighty points ahead of them, they could still take the Snitch, the Game and the Cup all in one move. The thought of Gryffindor not catching the Snitch did not seem to occur to anyone but Harry. Confidence in the champion team's seeker never wavered.

As the day approached, the excitement in the school grew. How Harry and Ron managed to complete their homework, including the 'catch-up' Potions assignments, and still spend a couple of hours at the Quidditch pitch every night, Hermione never knew. In the Common Room on the evening before the match, she even teased them about having a time-turner.

"What, and end up as stressed out as you were that year?" Ron laughed. "Not likely!"

Harry looked up from his Care of Magical Creatures homework. "Besides – McGonagall would never trust us. If Gred and Forge ever got their hands on a time turner ... "

Hermione laughed. It was absolutely true – they would cause havoc!

The day arrived, and the school buzzed with excitement. In the stands around the pitch, Gryffindor colors overshadowed those of Slytherin by three to one.

Hermione, watching happily with Ron and Ginny, looked across to the opposite stand. The dark figure of her lover stood tall and aloof with his students, watching the match with feigned detachment. Quidditch was a serious affair for the Heads of Houses, and the Slytherin Master took it as a matter of personal pride. The series of defeats against the Gryffindors had not been taken lightly, giving him yet one more reason for his antagonism toward the Gryffindor Captain. Still – Quidditch was Quidditch, and, as Hermione had told Ron at the end of the match against Ravenclaw – when it came to Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Severus Snape was on his own!

Across the pitch, their eyes met, but as the teams streaked into the air, all eyes turned to the game.

- - -

As the triumphant Gryffindors headed back to the castle, Malcolm Baddock stormed past, almost knocking Ginny from her feet.

"Watch it, Baddock!" shouted Harry, taking the girl's hand in concern.

Baddock turned and glared at them, and Ron laughed in his face. "Not so cocky now, are you, Baddock! I thought you were supposed to be the Slytherins' secret weapon!"

"You'll get yours, Weasley," he threatened, obliquely. The Slytherin scowled, but then, as he turned his eyes on Hermione, his face twisted into a sneer. "Spent much time in the dungeon, lately, Mudblood?" With that, he turned on his heel, and continued towards the castle.

"What was that all about?" asked Ginny.

Hermione shrugged. No-one but Snape and herself knew about the blackmail, and she intended to keep it that way. "Probably nothing," she said, noncommittally. "Just the Slytherins' favorite sport of Mudblood-baiting! He's just mad about how stupid he looked when he got cut off in that dive and almost smashed into Madam Hooch!"

Ron laughed. "Yeah! What a move. Should have asked for an action replay!"

The celebrations would be carrying on for the rest of the day, Hermione knew, but after dinner she headed for the dungeon, via her room, to consort with the enemy.

"Poor, darling!" she teased, as she curled herself into his lap, in the armchair by the fire.

Severus gave her a throaty growl. "Not a word, Ms. Granger!"

She smiled, coyly. "Well, if I can't talk, what can I do?"

Somehow, she had known that he would have an answer to that, and she was not disappointed. Closing her eyes, she allowed him to draw her close, his tongue exploring her mouth, and for a long time, not another word was spoken.

As the evening turned into night, the two lovers lay contentedly together in Severus' comfortable bed, talking. They talked about everything from Potions to Shakespeare, from music to the still hostile attitudes of some of the staff. Hagrid continued to avoid them, Madam Pomfrey was still regarding Severus with disgust and Hermione with pity, and Professor Trelawney was saying that she had seen it all along, and had informed the teacher that the relationship was doomed to failure. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, had continued to grow more and more accepting of the situation, and was bordering on supportive of the pair. Dumbledore said little.

The incident with Baddock that day interested Severus very much, and he became pensive for several minutes after Hermione told him of it.

"It would appear that he is becoming impatient," he reflected. "He is showing his hand a little too openly, and becoming careless. I believe that I may need to make a move very soon, or he will step over the line."

He pondered the situation for a while, but then changed the subject. Hermione decided not to press the issue. There were some things she would rather not know, particularly when it came to the inner machinations of the Slytherin House.

- - -

The next day was Sunday, and teacher and student had planned a day of study. Despite Hermione's obsession with her project, Snape felt it his responsibility to keep her on track for her Potions N.E.W.T. at the same time. She was his most intelligent charge, and was more ready for the exam than most of the final year students, but that did not mean she could become complacent. After being the one to suggest she take the exam early, he could not allow her to achieve anything less than top marks!

Waking up that morning, he smiled. Hermione's head was resting on his bare chest, and her arm stretched over him, reaching up to his shoulder. Starting at her wrist, he trailed his fingers lightly down the length of her arm, then down her bare back. Her skin was perfect, and her body soft and smooth. He reached to her waist and ran his hand over her curvaceous hips. She was so amazing. What could she possibly be doing in his bed?

She stirred. "Good morning, Severus," she murmured into his chest.

"Good morning, my darling." He stroked her back gently and then smiled as her hand slid slowly from his shoulder down his chest and below his waist. He hardened under her touch, thrilling at the feathery strokes of her small fingers. Her lips found his nipple, and her tongue flicked at it, teasingly. He closed his eyes and moaned slightly as she increased the pressure, her kisses making him clench his fists in pleasure.

Her body moved, and he waited in anticipation. Her hair was training down his stomach as her head moved down, and he held his breath as her lips brushed against him. A gasp escaped him as the heat of her mouth enveloped him. It felt so wonderful. So perfect. She was caressing him with her tongue, sucking him and surrounding him. His mind was filled with nothing but her and the ecstatic pleasure she was bringing. He found himself whispering her name over and over again, as his tension grew. He wanted to make this last for as long as possible, and held himself back, prolonging the pleasure, but finally he could restrain himself no longer, and exploded in breathtaking bliss.

He lay, slowing his breath and holding Hermione in his arms. "I love you," he murmured into her hair. She squeezed him in response, and he looked down at her beautiful body. Reaching to her face, he gently brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. It flowed like silk over his fingers, and he traced its lines down the side of her neck to her shoulder. She sighed. Rolling her off him and onto her back, he followed the same path with his mouth. As his lips planted kisses on her neck, his hand moved over her body until his fingers found the spot that was moist with excitement and readiness. Slowly, his lips moved down her body to taste her.

Snape found himself thinking back to the scene several times over breakfast, and he had to catch himself before his face gave too much away. Forcing his eyes away from the Gryffindor table was almost impossible, but he managed to keep it down to a bare minimum of furtive glances. Several times, their eyes met, and each looked quickly away.

Owl Post arrived. At first, he did not notice what had been received at the Gryffindor table, but when he glanced towards Hermione, she did not look happy. There was an unopened letter in her hand, and she was staring down at it uncomfortably. It had to be from her mother. Who else could cause such a reaction before the letter had even been read?

Watching as she tucked the letter, still unread, into her robes, he wondered just how bad this would be. Her parents loved her, and wanted the best for her – why else would her mother make such a fuss? – but their idea of what was best did not include a thirty-seven year old wizard, who also happened to be her teacher.

"So what does your mother have to say?" he asked, when they were once again in the dungeon. Hermione was unpacking her books onto a desk in the classroom, and looked up at him in momentary surprise. Then she reached into the folds of her robes, and pulled out the letter, handing it to him.

The envelope had been opened, and the letter folded awkwardly to put it back inside. Snape unfolded the paper carefully and read the letter aloud.

Dear Hermione,

We got your letter this morning. I must say, I'm surprised at you talking about moving in with your teacher. I thought we'd brought you up to have more sense than that. You've known him for almost six years, and for five of those years you hated him. Hardly a good basis for a lasting relationship. You are too young to be moving in with anyone, let alone a man who is old enough to be your father, but if that is your choice, then there is nothing we can do about it.

We love you, Hermione, but over the last few years we have seen you getting more and more drawn into this dangerous magic world. Harry seems to be a very nice young man, but these strange witches and wizards that you spend your time with are no good for you. We tried to accept it at first, and we were happy for you, but everything about your new world is strange and abnormal. It is not part of our ways, and we can't change to accept something we think is wrong.

If you choose not to come back here in the summer then we accept that, but we think that this will be the wrong decision in the long run. We don't want to see you hurt, but we think that will happen if you go ahead with this. But that is your decision. We have said our piece, and will say nothing more about it. If you would like us to send the rest of your things to you, let us know.

We love you.

Mum and Dad

As he read the letter, Hermione listened with her head down, and as he finished, he saw her shoulders sag and her body begin to shake. The tears began to flow freely, and he stepped quickly to her and wrapped his arms around her sobbing form.

"Severus," she forced out, between teary breaths, "I don't ... know what t ... to do ab ... about it. I don't want ... to feel that I'm not ... not ... welcome at home." She clung to him, weeping into his robes, and he wrapped them protectively around her, rocking backwards and forwards.

Shape felt completely helpless. He did not like situations that were so completely out of his control, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to change this. Searching for anything more decisive to do, he tried to absorb the shivers from Hermione's body, holding her tightly. Hearing Hermione's sobs brought almost physical pain to his heart. He closed his eyes, wishing he could shut out the hurt for both of them, or take it all upon himself. But Hermione had to deal with her parents in her own way, and all he could do was be there for her when she needed him. He held her.

- - -

Working on revision for Hermione's Potions N.E.W.T. provided a welcome distraction for both of them, and they forced their minds to this for most of the morning. Snape's difficult questions almost made Hermione regret her decision to take the exam early. If that was the level of difficulty she would face, then she was not sure she was ready for this. But the teacher reassured her that he was questioning her at a level far beyond that of the N.E.W.T., and she was progressing extremely well.

Although thoughts of her parents were still very much on her mind, she found the work useful in preventing her thoughts from becoming too overwhelmed by her frustration with them. At lunchtime, she met up with her friends in the Great Hall, but returned to the dungeon soon afterwards, to find her lover in conversation with one of the few people who could make the day any worse – Malcolm Baddock.

Snape was sitting behind his desk, as he had been for most of the morning, and Baddock was browsing moodily through the potions in the cabinet. He was clearly still in a foul mood after the Quidditch, and seemed to think he had found an easy way to vent his anger at the world.

"Mudblood!" he spat, as she entered. "We were just talking about you!"

Hermione regarded her lover carefully, without looking at the student. Snape's manner was calm, but there was a clear edge to his expression, that showed he was seething inside. It puzzled her for a moment – there was something strange about his face, which did not quite seem true. His attitude to Baddock had always been that he could handle anything the boy chose to try, but from his expression, it seemed that Baddock must have held a trump card of which the master had not been aware. He seemed worried by it.

Suddenly, Hermione realized the truth. There was something in the teacher's eyes that gave his feelings away to one who knew his moods so well. He was not in the least concerned by Baddock's latest ploy, but that was not the impression he wanted to give. The Slytherin was now confident that he had the Head of House caught totally of guard, and willing to do anything to prevent disclosure of his secrets. He could not be more wrong.

Playing along with the scam, Hermione moved close to Snape, standing slightly behind him, as though needing his strength, and placing a hand on his shoulder. "What do you want?" she asked, cautiously.

Baddock turned a scowling face on her. "Well, that's what I've been wondering," he snapped. "What do I want?" Hermione waited as he turned to pick up a bottle of powdered ants, and tossed it lightly in his hand, catching it again. "All this time, I've been asking for potion ingredients. With what I hold on the two of you, you owe me more than that! You're the Head of Slytherin – asking for a place on the Quidditch team was hardly a big deal. You could get that easily. I've been stupid."

He turned away from them, and began pacing up and down the room.

"Well, that's going to change. From now on, I'm not going to be messing about with little things like Quidditch. I'm going to be thinking about what I really want, and you're bloody-well going to get it for me. Both of you!" He glared angrily at them. "You think I'm stupid, but just remember that I'm the one with the ability to ruin things for you. I find this whole thing disgusting, anyway, and so will everyone else. How can you possibly find this filthy Mudblood attractive? You're pure-blood. Where's your pride?"

Snape turned his head away from the student, looking away to his left, and down at the floor, as though agreeing with the boy and thoroughly ashamed of himself.

Baddock stepped up to the desk, and put his hands on its surface, leaning forward towards his enemies. "You two had better start thinking carefully about how badly you want to keep this a secret, because if I think the two of you are trying to play me, I'll be having a chat with Dumbledore right away." He pushed himself away from the desk and headed for the door. "You'll be getting a list from me tomorrow, and this time there'll be no messing about. I have the upper hand in this, and it's time you realized that you'd better start taking me seriously."

With that, he turned from them and stalked out of the room.

For a moment, Snape was silent. Then he reached up to take Hermione's hand, still on his shoulder, and turned to look up at her. "Miss Granger," he smiled, "I believe that the next move requires some of your undisputable charm!"

Although puzzled by this, Hermione could not help but smile as she wondered exactly what he had in mind.


	46. Brothers

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 46 – Brothers**

Just after lunch the next day, Hermione had the perfect opportunity to put Snape's plan into action. When it came to blackmail and subterfuge, she was out of her depth, but he had told her exactly what to say, and she trusted his judgment.

After a quick lunch, she had headed for the library to pick up a book she needed for her project. The practical side was almost completed now, but presenting her results required considerable research, to put her findings into context. Clutching the historical reference she needed, she stepped out into the corridor just as Alistair Baddock turned towards library, from half way down the long passage.

Quickly, she put her head down. This was too good a chance to miss, and she had to get it right. With her face hidden, and still out of earshot of the Slytherin, she muttered a spell softly under her breath. "Emotarus!"

By the time she looked up, her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were red. As Baddock approached, he noticed this at once, and looked both surprised and worried.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked, hurrying up to her and reaching out to touch her shoulder in concern.

Irritably, she shook off his hand, making it clear that his touch was not welcome. "As if you don't know!" she snapped.

He was at a loss. "What?" he asked, anxiously. "What have I done?"

Hermione looked up into his face, forcing her expression into one of anger and hurt as she stared at him. Still with the air of one not willing to be pacified, she nodded towards a nearby empty classroom. "Let's talk in here." As soon as he had followed her, extremely puzzled, into the room, she flicked her wand at the door to close it, then rounded on him, angrily. "Alistair, I think that what you're doing to Severus and myself is disgusting!"

Naturally, this was met with a blank stare from the poor Slytherin, who was completely in the dark, but Hermione pretended not to notice. "I know that I must have hurt you," she continued, "but using blackmail to get back at me, through Severus – especially hiding behind your brother – is just ... ," she let her voice trail off as tears overtook the anger.

The expression on Baddock's face was one of stunned disbelief. "Hermione, I ... ," he began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"I know that this probably doesn't mean anything to you, but I love Severus, and he loves me. Using your little brother to do your dirty work and threaten his job is underhand." Slowly, realization was sinking in, and Alistair's face showed not confusion, but horror, as he finally understood Hermione's ramblings. She knew of the problems he had been having with his brother, and felt a pang of sympathy for him, but Snape had stressed the need to make him angry, and she knew she could not back off now. "Frankly, I think blackmail is appalling, even for a Slytherin, and I never would have expected it from you. I don't ...," again, she allowed her voice to crack, and, with a final reproachful glance at the stunned boy, she ran to the door, leaving it open and Alistair staring after her as she hurried away.

Not wanting anyone else to see her in such a state, Hermione slipped quickly into another classroom as soon as she was out of the sight of the library corridor. "Serenia!" Immediately, her face was free of tears and her eyes lost their redness. As she hurried off to the first lesson of the afternoon, she reflected that the brief encounter could not have gone better. In telling their secret, under the pretext of the assumption that Alistair already knew, there was a chance that he would tell others, or that he would join in his brother's scheme, but that as worth the risk. Severus' assessment of the older boy's character as being too decent to let the younger get away with this would, if accurate, mean that Alistair would now intervene and put an end to this. Hermione had her doubts – he was, after all, still a Slytherin – but for now she would simply see how this would play out.

- - -

"Good evening, Ms. Granger," Snape rumbled, as Hermione entered the classroom. "You are looking as beautiful as ever." He was standing at the back of the room, re-organizing empty jars of varying sizes on their shelves, and watched as she began unpacking her bag, preparing to start work.

She turned her warm smile to him. "Why, thank you, Professor Snape. You're not looking so bad, yourself!"

Snape and Hermione had long ago established an unspoken rule of maintaining a certain physical distance between them in the classroom, even when alone. Few students ventured into the domain of the Potions Master unless they had to, but there was too much risk of discovery if they let their guards down. With this in mind, Snape returned to his task as they talked.

"From the reports I have been hearing, I assume that you had a chat with your devoted admirer." She looked quizzically at him, and he explained. "Neither of the Messrs. Baddock were in class this afternoon. I received several inquiries from the staff."

Hermione recounted the lunchtime meeting. It would appear, from the conspicuous absence of both boys from their classes, that it had had the desired effect.

"I still can't figure Alistair out," Hermione said, thoughtfully. "He's so different from his brother."

Snape shook his head. "He is not as different as one might think," he told her. "I had almost forgotten, but in the first year, he was very much like his brother – although without the same brazen confidence. I have no idea what changed him, but it is only since the second year that he has been the way he is now. Your chat with him today, though, should, I believe, have provoked sufficient anger for him to deal with his brother. I suspect it will take a good deal of his former guile."

There was a soft knock at the door, which then opened as Bale and Gem stepped inside. "Do you mind if we work on our projects, Sir?" Bale asked, politely.

Snape gestured the two of them inside with a single nod. Since the night they had assisted him to prepare the restorative for Hermione, nothing had been said regarding his feelings for her, and he had, on occasion, wondered if he had imagined their looks of understanding. He had told Hermione of their involvement in her recovery – including his certainty that they knew his feelings – and she had since thanked them both, but this was the first time since then that they two boys had seen them together. As he had expected, they gave no indication that anything was different. Talking softly together, they exchanged smiles with Hermione and set up to begin work.

There was a part of him that instinctively expected a Slytherin-type reaction from Bale and Gem, regarding Hermione. Even without resorting to blackmail, most of Snape's own house would, at the very least, feel that the Potions Master owed them something for their assistance and silence, and take advantage of that fact. But, as Snape reminded himself, these were not Slytherins. It seemed that the situation had been accepted by them without question or comment, and that their roles in Hermione's recovery had been played out without any thought of recompense. It was refreshing, to say the least.

With little time left before the projects were due (particularly in Hermione's case), Snape reviewed their work critically, and offered constructive advice to all three students. The boys stayed for only a few hours before packing up and bidding Hermione and Snape a quiet "Good night". Gem's quick glance from one to the other as he left was the only indication that they knew anything, but nothing was said. Almost as soon as they left, there was another gentle knock at the door, which Snape answered with a grunt.

The door opened to reveal Alistair Baddock, looking a little hesitant, but resolved. He nodded at Hermione, then stepped towards the teacher.

"Professor, may I have the list that my brother gave you this morning, please?" he asked. Snape saw Hermione glance towards him. He had not told her about the list of demands with which he had been presented just before lunch. He calmly reached into his robes and withdrew a carefully folded paper, which he presented to Baddock. He kept his eyes fixed on the boy as he read the list, watching shock turn to disbelief and horror. Finally, the paper was folded and slipped inside the boy's robes.

Baddock took a deep breath. "I apologize, Sir. You won't be bothered by this again." He turned. "Hermione, believe me, I had nothing to do with this. You were honest with me when you said you were seeing someone else, although," he shot a glance at the teacher, "I had no idea who it was until today, and I have no reason to want to get back at you."

Hermione smiled, but Snape refused to let him off the hook so quickly. "And your brother?" he growled, dangerously.

Baddock straightened his back and looked Snape firmly in the eye. "I'll deal with him, Sir." The teacher looked deep into the student's eyes, in challenge of the words, but the gaze was solid. He nodded slowly, and Baddock turned to go. At the door, he stopped. "I understand why you need to keep this secret," he said, "but if this is serious and is going to continue, then I think you need to face the fact that it will come out eventually. But you have my word that no-one will find out from me."

"So what was in the list?" Hermione's voice was casual, as the Slytherin left the room, but Snape knew that she was itching for an answer. He had already made his decision on that point, though, and refused to disclose the details, insisting that they were irrelevant. In the end she dropped the matter, having no other option, but was far from happy about it. For now, though, she seemed content in the knowledge that Malcolm Baddock was finally off their backs.

"Alistair was right, though, Severus," she sighed. "This will come out eventually."

Snape knew that she was right, but he was determined that it would not happen until things had settled a little with the teachers. He did not want their relationship to be facing opposition on all sides. "We will deal with that when the time arises, my darling." He stepped to the doorway at the back of the classroom, and held out his hand. Slipping her bag over her shoulder, Hermione smiled and together they headed for the warmth and comfort of his rooms.

- - -

The end of April arrived with not a peep from Malcolm Baddock. Snape still saw him in classes, where he was sullen but subdued and obedient, and Hermione had seen both boys together at breaks and mealtimes – Malcolm appearing sulky and silent, and Alistair watchful. There had been no clue as to what had happened between the brothers, but whatever it was had been effective.

Hermione's project was submitted to both the History of Magic professor, and the Potions Master for marking, and to Grendel Moldbury Arkletan, for possible inclusion in his book. Naturally, Hermione spent the following days pacing and worrying. The fact that Snape told her she had nothing to worry about did little to calm her. He was judging it as a school project – Arkletan would be assessing its merits as a publishable work. She should have included more of her research into the theories of potency levels. And why hadn't she included the references to the early dosage calculations? To get her research published would be wonderful, but would it be good enough? All she could do was wait to hear from the author, but she had no idea how long that would take. Publishing a book could take months, or even years, and she was not sure she could wait that long.

Immersing herself in her work provided a good distraction. She knew that Severus had been concerned about her spending so much time on her project, and now was time to redress the balance, ensuring that all her subjects – including her Potions N.E.W.T. – were given due consideration.

It was while she was working on History of Magic in the library one evening, that Ginny approached her with a problem, asking for Hermione's advice.

"It's Ron," she explained. "He says he's alright about me and Harry, but he's started acting – weird. It's like he's suddenly got all protective of me, and doesn't like me spending so much time with a boy."

Hermione frowned. She was not used to giving advice on this kind of thing, and she had no idea what could be bothering Ron. She had thought he was happy about Ginny and Harry being together. "When did he start acting differently?" she asked.

Ginny hung her head. "He saw Harry and me kissing, and he made a joke about it, but I could tell he didn't like it," she sighed. "Now I'm starting to feel guilty whenever Harry kisses me – like we should take it slow, for Ron's sake."

"And what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Harry's the first boy that's kissed me. I don't want to have to stop because of Ron." Ginny looked down, nervously studying her fingers. "What's ... what's it like, kissing ... Professor Snape?"

This caught Hermione off guard. It was not something she had expected to have to talk about, and she was not at all sure she could discuss it. But Ginny looked so confused and bewildered by the subject of romance, that Hermione could not help but be truthful. There was also something exciting and forbidden about being able to confide in someone, and it was not often that she had a heart to heart with another girl. Before she could stop herself, she had blurted out, "It's wonderful, Ginny. He's wonderful."

Ginny blushed and giggled. "Is he a good kisser?"

"Incredible." She gave the younger girl a conspiratorial smile. "How about Harry?"

Ginny's face turned even redder, her cheeks beginning to match the color of her hair. "He makes me feel all warm and ... I don't know ... he's just ... "

Hermione laughed. "I know what you mean. Sounds like you really like him."

"I do. I just hope Ron doesn't start being difficult."

It seemed odd that Ron would be behaving like this. "Maybe he's just being over-protective of his baby sister," was all she could think of to say. "I suppose that a big brother feels a lot of responsibility, especially when you're both so far from your parents. Just don't let him run your life. What other people think shouldn't matter. Try to avoid hurting him, but you have to do things for your own reasons."

You might try taking that advice yourself, Hermione, she told herself on her way to Snape's room that night. Since she had received her mother's last letter, she had heard nothing. Nor had she found the courage to write back. Several times, she had picked up her quill to start, but had always given up. She knew she had to tell them about their engagement, but she just could not find the words. She would tell them soon, she thought. Just a few weeks ... maybe ...

- - -

Hermione was restless.

She did not know what had put her into such a strange mood – the tension of the upcoming exams, perhaps, or the way her thoughts had been dwelling on the unresolved issues with her parents – but she was uptight and irritable. Attempting to do some revision in the library with Ron and Harry, she had found their lack of focus annoying, and had become short with them, snapping at Ron's casual attitude to the upcoming exams. Not wanting to provoke an argument, she had decided to leave, and headed for the ground, hoping that some air would help to clear her head.

Stepping outside, she looked up at the sky. It was overcast and dark, holding rain, but unwilling to release it. It felt, somehow, oppressive – both reflecting and adding to her mood – a heavy gray blanket, smothering her, and stretching from horizon to horizon allowing no escape.

Her mind drifted to the dungeon and her lover, picturing him working alone at his desk. Things between them were perfect – their work, their love. He had changed so much over the past few months. Outwardly, and to the rest of the school, he was the same severe and cynical tyrant, but with her he was soft and tender. But Hermione had changed, too. They had adapted to each other, and settled into their own comfortable routine.

Could that be what was causing this restlessness, she wondered? Things were almost too quiet. Baddock had left them alone completely, since his brother had taken charge of him, and even the teachers had eased off a little. There was still anger and disgust from many, but it had settled mostly into avoidance, rather than direct hostility. Maybe what she needed was for some of that underlying tension to be released – for the clouds to burst.

She was being ridiculous, she knew. She loved Severus, and their relationship was wonderful. He was the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. What was bothering her?

As her mind drifted, once again, to the dungeon, she found her feet heading the same way. Almost without realizing it, she headed down toward the Potions classroom, and stopped outside the door to his office. There was silence from within, and she stood for a moment, wondering whether or not to interrupt him.

Maybe what she needed was to renew a little of the excitement and unpredictability of their relationship. She smiled, and reached for her wand.

- - -

Snape had been deeply engrossed in his work for several hours now, and had enjoyed the time immensely. It was not often that he allowed himself the luxury of becoming absorbed in a task purely for the pleasure of it, but tonight he had cleared his desk and given himself some time to indulge his passion for potions. He had been only twelve when he had originally heard of the Averon Brew – a perfect balance between opposites that, if created, could increase the potency of any potion a thousand fold. It was a mystical – some even said mythical – concoction, that had held the status of legend since before the founding of Hogwarts.

As far as actually finding out how to produce the substance went, the chances were slim, but that was not the point. Arriving was not the purpose of this journey. He was fascinated by this for the pure enjoyment of the research – like a mathematician dabbling in Fermat's Last Theorem.

His notes, added to over many years of infrequent research, were spread in front of him. His brow furrowed into a frown of concentration as he noted down his latest theories. Often, his reasoning seemed to lead him in circles, but that was all part of the challenge – trying one lead and following its path, only to find it going nowhere, or splitting into several more possibilities, each leading back to the same problem. Despite the difficulties, though, something always drew him back to the quest, and he knew that it would always be his personal Holy Grail.

Straightening from his hunched position over the scrolls, he put down his quill and stretched. Sitting for so long had left him stiff. He wriggled his shoulders to loosen them, then jumped as he felt a soft touch on his back. Small hands moved slowly to his shoulders and began to caress him, and he relaxed into their tenderness. It felt perfect – gentle and sensuous – and unexpected. His desk faced the door, but he had neither heard nor seen her enter. How had she done it? Not that it mattered right now. He pushed his question aside, and focused on her soft hands.

A faint breath teased the side of his neck, and he sighed and closed his eyes as she bent to kiss him. The lips caressing his neck were gentle, at first, but suddenly he felt an instant arousal as her teeth roughly grazed his neck. He caught his breath in surprise. Hermione was not normally aggressive, but he found it extremely exciting. The way her fingers were entwining themselves in his hair, and the way her lips were pulling at his ear were far more forceful than usual.

As she moved round to sit on his lap, her hungry eyes burned fiercely into him, and she bent to press her lips to his.

Their lovemaking was always wonderful, but this was new. Since the first violent and unexpected expression of passion, he had always made a point of keeping himself in check, and being gentle with her, but now she seemed to be the one setting the tone. One of her hands was gripping the front of his robes, while the other was on the back of his head, drawing him forward and increasing the pressure between their lips. Instinct led him to match her passion and he could feel his hardness growing beneath his robes, but at the same time, he felt caution holding him back. It would be so easy to allow his raw emotions to surface, but he was not certain he could control them if they did.

But she was the one leading him, and he was happy to be led.


	47. Fire and Ice

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 47 – Fire and Ice**

The dark eyes of Severus Snape showed surprise as Hermione gazed intently into them. She loved those eyes – dark and brooding, expressive and intense. She pulled him close, gripping his robes, and kissed him deeply. Her actions were startling him, and she liked the feeling of being able to catch him off guard. The sound of his sharp intake of breath had shown his excitement when she had playfully bitten his neck, and she knew that his was arousing him.

But he was holding back. He was always gentle with her, and seemed cautious of matching her passion, but she intended to give him no choice. She pressed her lips firmly to his, wrapping her arms sensuously about him, and after a moment, his hesitancy faded. Strong arms encircled her, and he returned her kiss fiercely.

It felt wonderful. Whatever it was that was making Hermione behave this way was filling her with a glowing fire. The intensity of their entwining tongues made her body respond powerfully. His hands were on her back, caressing her through her robes, but that was not enough. She needed him. She wanted to be rid of the fabric that kept their bodies apart – to feel his skin on hers. Reaching for his robes, she began sliding them from his shoulders. With her fingers trailing from his neck over his firm and strong shoulders, down to his back, she pushed his clothes out of their way, and pressed her lips to his skin, drinking in the musky smell of his body.

Snape tilted his head backwards, and she felt as much as heard the growl in his throat as she took the lobe of his ear between her lips. Without warning, Hermione pushed her tongue into his ear, and felt his instant response against her thigh.

He stood, pushing her to her feet and drawing her tightly against him. Hermione leaned back against the desk, pulling him with her, until she could feel his weight pinning her against the hard edge of the wood. He reached for her robes, and she smiled as he exposed her flesh. Strong fingers cupped her breasts and she arched her back in pleasure as his mouth moved to her ready nipples. The force of his lips was almost painful, but she could not help but hold him even tighter against her as though she could never hold him close enough.

As his mouth sucked hungrily at her breasts, Hermione wriggled her body against his, feeling his hands roam from her back down to her waist, then her hips. Almost imperceptibly, his fingers moved to stroke the inside of her thigh, then slowly upwards. Tingles ran through her body as she moaned slightly in anticipation of his touch, but instead, his fingers moved away, causing her to let out a soft gasp of frustration.

Suddenly, he caught her by surprise. His other hand had moved towards her, and long fingers had slid into her wetness.

Then they were gone.

With his mouth still firmly suckling her nipples, Snape shrugged off the rest of his robes. A sudden movement, and his fingers once again slid into her, and a moment later he was on his knees. Immediately, his tongue slipped between the folds of moist skin, finding the point that he knew could drive her to ecstasy. Hands caressed her body as his tongue probed into her – palms stroking her skin and eliciting aroused sighs, as her body was possessed by his.

The sound of scrolls hitting the floor, as Hermione reached round to push Snape's work aside, had an instant effect on the Potions Master, and he stood, pulling slightly away from her and holding her by the shoulders, at arms length.

"Hermione," he rumbled. "Not here!"

Since that fateful evening, more than seven months ago, they had never allowed this to happen in this room. Now, Hermione's almost careless action had mirrored that of Snape, when he had forced himself upon her. It was a stark reminder of how much things had changed.

For a long moment, Hermione gazed up into the troubled face of her lover. "Severus," she said, eventually, "what happened that night is a part of us. We can't hide from it – and I don't want to."

Hermione could feel Snape's eyes boring into hers, as though needing proof of what she was saying. She did not quite understand her own feelings about this – somehow she felt that she needed to make love to Severus here, as though to prove to them both that they had gone beyond their past. All she really knew was that she wanted him here and now, more than anything. Solidly, she returned his gaze, willing him to accept what he could not change.

"Make love to me, Severus," she whispered.

His face remained unreadable for several seconds, then seemed to crumple. Without another word, he pulled her firmly into his arms and kissed her. The force between them was so strong that it felt, to Hermione, that the air was being squeezed out of her by his powerful hold. The kiss was rough and passionate, as though all restraint had been washed away, and it felt like every inch of her body was on fire. Feverishly returning his kiss, Hermione stepped backwards, pulling him towards the desk, where he lifted her, and was soon crushing her to the hard surface. As Snape thrust hard into her, Hermione responded by pushing her hips firmly towards him. She wanted him deep inside her – penetrating her very being as well as her body. She reached down to grasp his buttocks, pulling him into her, in time with their rhythmic motion.

"This feels so good," she whispered breathlessly into his ear. The pressure between their bodies was bringing Hermione to a frenzy completely beyond her power to control.

"I don't ever want to stop doing this, my darling," he murmured softly, as his deep thrusts continued, slow and deliberate.

To Hermione, this sounded perfect. She was calling out his name as she climaxed, and he was kissing her ear, lovingly.

It was a long time later that Snape was groaning in pleasure as he made his final prolonged thrusts into Hermione, giving a more intense feeling of simultaneous pain and pleasure than she could have imagined. Her body was bruised from the hard desk and tender under the firm grip of his fingers, but she could not have felt more content, as though she had been given the release she needed, and the heavy rainclouds that had been above her, had finally burst.

"I love you, Severus," she told him, running her fingers into his hair and drawing his head down to hers to kiss him. "I love you, so much."

His fingers reached up to her face, and stroked her cheek, tenderly. "And you know how much I love you, my sweet." He kissed her nose. "But there's one thing I regret, and that is asking you to marry me." His face was serious for a moment, then his eyes gave away his amusement at her shocked expression. "If I had never asked, I could have listened to your wonderful reply again. To hear you telling me that you will spend the rest of your life with me."

- - -

"I can't believe that you two still haven't handed in your projects!"

Hermione, Ron and Harry were, once again, back in the library. Even after living with Hermione's attitude towards homework for almost six years, now, it always slightly annoyed the two boys when she expected them to adopt the same approach to it as she did.

Ron, in particular, did not take kindly to Hermione's words, and snapped back at her. "Well, we've already handed in our Care of Magical Creatures projects to Hagrid," he objected. "It's just my Charms and Harry's Transfiguration we've got to finish."

Part of the problem, Harry knew, was that she was right, but they didn't need her to remind them. As usual, they had left their work until the last minute, though they had had months to complete it. Even their projects for Hagrid, which they had actually enjoyed, had only been handed in the day before. Now they were left with the more arduous tasks of completing the less enjoyable work for Professor Flitwick, in Ron's case, and Professor McGonagall, in Harry's.

"We have until tomorrow morning, Hermione." Harry said, not looking up from his notes. "We'll be ready."

Hermione snorted, softly, but said nothing.

In the interests of peace, Harry was prepared to let the matter drop. He knew that Hermione was not intending to be unpleasant – it was just her usual way of showing them that she cared, and wanted them to do well – if only her manner wasn't so ... irritating. Still, it was Hermione. From the start of the first year, they had known what she was like, so why should they expect her to change, now? He shrugged inwardly, and continued with his work.

But it seemed that Ron was not as ready to ignore Hermione's attitude as his friend.

"What's your problem, Hermione?" He demanded. "What does it matter to you if we have to rush to finish this. We've finished all the work, we just need to write it up." He bent his head back to his work. "I don't even know why we're explaining ourselves to you!"

Hermione looked hurt, and said quietly, "I didn't mean anything," she said, apologetically. "I just ... don't understand why you always leave things to the last minute."

To Harry, it seemed clear that Hermione had not intended to start a fight, but Ron was, evidently, seeing red. "Just because you're sleeping with a teacher, doesn't give you the right to treat us like kids!" he snapped.

This remark threw Hermione completely off balance. "I don't mean ... "

"I suppose this is the effect Snape is having on you!" There was clear distaste in his voice as he spoke the name.

Immediately, Hermione was on the defensive. "Don't say his name like that. You make it sound like an insult!"

Harry sat back in surprise at the suddenness with which the situation had turned into an argument.

"Well, what do you want us to call him?" Ron asked, angrily. "Severus? Or do you think that we're not showing enough respect? Maybe we should call him 'Professor Snape'. Would that suit you?"

Tears were in Hermione's eyes, and her voice was little more than a whisper. "Ron, I know you don't like him, but ... "

Ron snorted. "Don't like him?" he mocked. "That's a laugh. We've hated him for years."

Hermione's hurt eyes turned to Harry. "Is that how you feel about him, too, Harry?" she asked, miserably.

What could Harry say? After the way that Snape had treated him, he couldn't be expected to like him, but he would never have told Hermione that he hated him. "You can't expect us to suddenly change our minds about him, Hermione," he said, hesitantly. "He's always made it clear that he hates us. 'Specially me."

Slowly, Hermione nodded, and began to pack up her things from the table. "I think I'd better leave you to your projects."

Harry watched helplessly as she stood, fighting tears back from her eyes, and picked up her bag. She turned to Ron, and seemed about to say something, but then changed her mind and turned away. At the doorway, she stopped. Hagrid had just entered the library, and the two of them stared at each other for a moment, then each stepped aside to pass. Hermione continued out into the corridor, while Harry watched Hagrid walk sullenly over to Madam Pince, speak briefly to her, then leave, looking moodily in the direction Hermione had left, without giving Harry and Ron a glance.

"She's in a right huff!" muttered Ron.

Troubled, Harry put his head in his hands, while Ron fixed his attention firmly on his work.

- - -

When Ginny Weasley found her brother and her boyfriend in the Gryffindor Common Room later that evening, she was less than pleased. She had heard the story from Hermione, having encountered her just after she had left the library.

"What were you both thinking?" she asked, annoyed. "She's supposed to be your friend."

Ron and Harry looked at each other in surprise. Ginny was probably the most quiet and accommodating person they knew. It had not surprised either of them when she had accepted the news of Hermione and Snape's relationship so calmly, but to see her leaping so strongly to their defense was unexpected.

Harry was unsure what to say, but Ron had no problem in finding words. "What d'you expect? " he snapped at his sister. "We can't just forget what a git he's always been. He's hated us since the day we stepped into the school."

"Things are different, now, Ron," she responded, trying to get some patience into her voice. "He's Hermione's boyfriend," Ron and Harry flinched at the word, but Ginny ignored this, "and you need to find some way to accept him."

Harry stepped in. "You've got to admit, Ginny, he's not an easy person to like."

"Have you ever tried?" she retorted. "Neither of you have ever even had a real conversation with him."

"Like he'd want to have a conversation with us," said her brother, angrily. "He'd have taken fifty house-points off us before we'd even managed a remark on the weather! If Hermione expects us to suddenly like him after all this time, then she's off her bloody rocker, because it's not going to happen!"

Ginny seemed to be running out of patience. "Look, Ron, I know you're worked up about the exams and your project, but you can't take that out on Hermione. Maybe if you'd followed her advice and done some revision, you wouldn't need to be so stressed!"

With that, she got up from the common-room sofa where she had been sitting next to Harry, and turned to her boyfriend. "And as for what you told me about Hagrid – I have a few words to say to him, too!" She stormed from the room, a look of grim determination on her face.

Harry turned to his stunned friend. "Ron," he began, thoughtfully. "You don't think Hermione's been brewing Polyjuice Potion again, do you?"

For a few moments, the two stared at each other, then began to laugh, hysterically.

- - -

Snape heard about the incident a little while after Ginny, and had spent most of the evening trying to make Hermione forget about it. The last thing he wanted was to start an argument between the two of them, which was inevitable if this line of thought continued. His attitude to her friends was no less hostile than theirs to him. Only the Weasley girl was any different.

Why should that be? He couldn't say that he liked her. Quite the opposite, in fact – he avoided having to deal with her whenever possible. Since the brief conversation they had had in the hospital wing, each waiting for their loved ones to wake, she had made him feel awkward and uncomfortable, whenever she was around. Ginny Weasley was ... well ... nice to him. She didn't go out of her way to try to talk – she had more sense and respect than that – but she was simply polite and pleasant. She had accepted the relationship between himself and Hermione without comment, other than her simple question of their age gap, which was understandable, and she had treated him like a normal person, having a normal relationship. He was unaccustomed to this. That had to be the reason he found it so awkward. He had no idea how to react to this, but she did not seem to mind, accepting his inability to respond in the same way she had accepted everything else.

And he was grateful.

Her brother and boyfriend, on the other hand, posed a problem. He hated Potter. He could neither explain nor justify it – even to himself – but he hated him. Everything from his looks, his voice and his mannerisms, to the way he flew, reminded him of his school enemy, and it brought out such loathing. Even after all these years, and James dead for so long, how could he not look at the boy with disgust? As for Weasley, there was nothing personal in that, apart from the association with Potter. In comparison with his brothers, he had little in the way of the talents of the oldest two, nor was he a great troublemaker like those damned twins. He would probably have gone unnoticed had it not been for his choice of friend.

And yet, they were also Hermione's friends. She cared about them more deeply than he could have thought possible. Certainly he had never had friends like that, either at school or since. He gazed at the sleeping girl next to him. He could not bear to see her suffer, and yet her tears had been as much for his inability to warm to her friends as for theirs to warm to him.

His thoughts drifted to the gift she had given him for Christmas. Since that day, he had remained true to his resolution of reading only one quote or page per day, and he had memorized many of the passages. In the light of the day's events, some of them had taken on a deeper meaning for him. So many of the quotes seemed to point to Hermione's discomfort with the situation between her lover and her friends.

'Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon?" The words flowed through his mind, and he could feel her pain. She hated being in the position of loving two people who despised each other. For Snape, what did he care that her friends hated him, as long as he had Hermione's love? But although this was all very well for him, Hermione was the one being torn apart by the rift between them. Sooner or later, something would have to give, and it had been incredibly selfish of him not to have realized this.

Something would have to be done.

- - -

The next day was Friday, and the day that the sixth-year projects were due. It felt, to Ron and Harry, that weights had been lifted from their shoulders as they each handed in the hurriedly finished scrolls. All they had to worry about now were the exams, and they were still four whole weeks away! For now, they could relax.

"So what d'you want to do?" asked Ron, breathing a sigh of relief at the thought of the project being finally out of his hands. "Go down to Hagrid's?"

Harry agreed. They had not been down there for a while, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity.

"Do you reckon he's read our projects, yet?" Ron wondered.

"I bet he's read yours," laughed Harry. "Anything to do with dragons and he's happy! You'll probably get an 'A'."

Ron frowned. "Bet McGonagall and Flitwick aren't so easy going, though," he muttered, taking a bag of Every Flavor Beans from his pocket, and offering them to Harry. "Still – could be worse. We could have had to do a project for ... "

The voice behind them interrupted with perfect timing. "Potter. Weasley." Snape's growl caught them both by surprise and they turned apprehensively. Just being spoken to by the Potions Master gave them a feeling of guilt, even when they had done nothing wrong. He had called to them from a little way down the corridor, and now caught up with them as they waited, apprehensively. Drawing near, though, he seemed to lose a little momentum, and hesitated before speaking again.

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley." He regarded them cautiously, as did they, him. With a nod of his head, he gestured to the empty Muggle Studies classroom beside them. "We need to talk."


	48. An Unexpected Party

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 48 – An Unexpected Party**

Ever since Snape had made his decision that he had to speak to the two Gryffindor students, he had become more and more apprehensive. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to forget the whole thing. Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, he thought, wryly. Stop thinking about it – just do it.

In the end, it was only when he spotted the boys on his way to the staffroom that he called out to them before he had had time to reflect, giving himself no time to change his mind.

He watched apprehensively, as they stepped inside the Muggle Studies classroom, and stood nervously waiting for him. There was a moment of satisfaction in the knowledge that their fear gave him the upper hand, but he chastised himself immediately for it. This was not about gaining the advantage, and making the two nervous would defeat his purpose. If he could have simply snarled at them – made them bend to his will – there would have been no difficulty, but he had a far more arduous task. He had to be nice to them.

Grimly, he followed them inside, feeling every bit as sick and uncomfortable as they looked, and closed the door softly behind them. Then he stood at the doorway and turned to face the, watching them in silence for a moment before speaking.

"Hermione is not happy," he said, softly. "We need to do something about it."

They looked surprised at his words, and he noticed the glance between them, but they nodded, slowly, then Potter spoke.

"What did you have in mind, Sir?"

Snape gulped. He felt so … exposed. This whole scene was completely alien to him. "Dinner," he managed to say. "The four of us. Tomorrow night."

The exchange of glances between the boys in front of him showed that they were as uneasy with this situation as he.

"I am not suggesting that we attempt to become friends," he explained, trying not to sound harsh, but fearing that the words came out as in sneer, "but for Hermione's sake, we must learn to tolerate each other."

"Did Hermione suggest this?" Ron asked, suspiciously.

The Potions Master almost found himself automatically snapping back at this, but caught himself just in time, and softened his tone. "No. She knows nothing about this, Weasley." He glanced nervously at his feet, then amended the name. "Ron. I thought it might be good to surprise her."

"It's a good idea," said Harry, glancing pointedly at Ron, who was still eyeing the teacher mistrustfully.

Snape gave them half a forced smile. "I would suggest that you bring your girlfriends," he said cautiously, "but I assume that Ms. Patil is unaware of the situation. In the circumstances, it may be wiser for it to be just we four."

Harry nodded. "We'd like to be there," he smiled, politely. "Thank you."

"My private rooms are concealed. You will need to come to the Potions classroom, and I will show you the way." Snape glanced from Harry to Ron. "Seven o'clock?"

Finally, Ron made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "Thank you, Sir."

Snape could hardly blame him for his lack of enthusiasm. He was not exactly thrilled by the prospect of dinner with them either, but it was good that all of them were prepared to try to get along.

He nodded, and was about to leave, but Weasley's … no, Ron's … words made him pause.

"Given the situation, 'Sir' seems rather formal." He hesitated. "I am sure that this is as awkward for you as for me, so I will leave it to you to choose the manner in which you address me. If you wish to call me Severus, that would be acceptable. If you prefer something else – well – whatever seems appropriate."

Outside the classroom, he breathed a sigh of relief that the first part of the ordeal was over.

Damn it, Severus, he thought, as he headed to the staff room to pick up some scrolls. You must love that girl a hell of a lot to put yourself through this!

He answered himself with a smile. I do!

- - -

Hermione had been a little surprised on arriving in Snape's room, to find the table set for four. He always liked to have a formal setting for dinner, but she knew that no one else ever dined there. When she asked him about it, he had simply told her to wait and see, then had disappeared into the classroom, promising to return with their guests. Hermione's only thought was of Professor Dumbledore and … who? McGonagall? While he was gone, she also noticed an extra two chairs by the fire. Very puzzling.

When Snape returned, and politely held the door open for Ron and Harry, Hermione beamed, and rushed forward to hug them both.

"You only saw us an hour ago, Hermione!" laughed Ron. "You're acting like you've not seen us for months."

Hermione laughed. "It's just good that you're here."

The first little while was very awkward. Harry and Ron seemed, naturally, ill-at-ease to be in the private dungeon rooms, and Snape was not accustomed to visitors. Conversation was a little stilted, as they sat by the fire.

"So … what's the music?" Harry asked.

Snape managed a smile. "It is from Donizetti's L'elisir d'amore," he told them. "It seemed … appropriate, considering my subject."

"You listen to a lot of classical music?" Ron asked.

The teacher nodded. "I always have. Prokofiev, Mozart, Beethoven."

Harry looked very surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you'd listen to muggle composers."

"What makes you think they are all muggles?" One of his eyebrows raised slightly in amusement.

Hermione laughed. This was something she had never considered. She looked around the table at her two closest friends and her lover, as they talked. It was not exactly a scene of warmth and friendship, but they were finally together in a room, without sparks or fists flying. It felt like such a relief.

"How about dinner?" she smiled, and they all stood. "Severus is a great cook – with or without magic!"

"You don't let the house-elves cook for you?" he asked, with an innocent expression, and a sideways glance at Hermione.

Snape began conjuring plates from the air as the other sat. "I know I have the reputation of being the most … severe … teacher in the school, Ron," he said, "but even I would not have the courage to face Ms. Hermione Granger, if she thought I was contributing to the repression of the poor Hogwarts slaves!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but laughed along with them. It seemed that as she was the common link between them, teasing her proved to be a good method of communication between the other three, and she found herself to be the subject of much good-natured humor. She pretended to be offended, but she loved to see the three of them laughing together. There was still very much a sense of reserve and formality, but this was a big step in the right direction.

Only when the conversation turned to previous teachers, and Harry mentioned the name of Lockhart, with a not-so-subtle grin at Hermione, did she feel a need to put a stop to their jokes. She aimed a kick at Harry, under the table.

Unfortunately, it was Severus who yelped.

"Hermione, my darling," he growled, "if that kick was intended for Harry, then there must be some intriguing piece of information he was about to disclose!" He looked expectantly at Harry, but it was Ron who spoke up.

"Only that he sent her a get-well card, and she used to sleep with it under her pillow!" he teased.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?' he rumbled. "Perhaps I should have asked you two to dinner before now. This is turning out to be quite a revelation!"

Throughout dinner, they talked of everything from muggles to divination, and although there was still some discomfort between them, Hermione felt that her lover and her friends were finally learning not to hate each other. They were talking comfortably, and she was sure that it was genuine – not just feigned for her benefit.

When the conversation turned to families, and the differences between home lives – particularly those of Harry and Ron – Snape said little of his own upbringing. Naturally the subject of Hermione's parents was raised.

"I can understand them not liking the idea of Hermione and I together, but they will have to come to terms with it when we are married."

Ron and Harry looked at each other. "Married?" they asked, in unison.

Hermione flinched slightly. "Severus, I … erm … thought we were not going to tell anyone about that yet?" she said, softly.

Silence fell around the table, to be broken by Harry.

"What was that you said about revelations, Severus?"

- - -

After the news of Snape's proposal, and Hermione's acceptance, the rest of the evening was relatively free of surprises. Hermione had carefully explained that she and Severus had not decided when to marry, but it would most likely take place after Hermione left school. Her friends seemed relieved at this, and quickly accepted the news.

"I suppose it saves us having to have the discussion about 'Honorable Intentions' with you," Ron remarked, with a sly glance at Snape.

Harry laughed. "And, believe me, you don't want to have to listen to that!"

Snape glanced from one to the other, and was relieved to see the humor between them. He had wondered just how much friction Potter's … Harry's relationship with Ron's sister had caused. It was also a relief to know that the comment about having that discussion with him was a joke! The exchange somehow triggered a slight resentful envy of the relationship between them. The thought of having friends like that at school – that would be protective of their own 'family' – was strange to him. Usually, he suspected that Hermione fell naturally into the role of 'big sister', bossing them about their homework, but it seemed that they also felt a need to protect her, too. Maybe he had been too hard on them.

Frankly, he was amazed at how well the evening had gone. It had taken a huge amount of will power to force himself not to see James Potter's face at his dinner table, but he found that the result had been worth it. If he pictured himself sitting at dinner with three students, it seemed ridiculous, but he had found the presence of the boys to be less irksome than anticipated. More to the point – Hermione was happy.

"So – Apart from my slip about us getting married, did I behave well enough?" he asked her, after her friends had left with handshakes and seemingly genuine exchanges of pleasantries.

Hermione threw her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you, Severus," she said, squeezing him happily. "That was such a sweet thing for you to do!"

He placed one arm around her, and a hand under her chin, tilting her head up to look into his face. "Now, what was that about Lockhart?" he demanded. "Should I be jealous?"

"Well, you have never won any awards for your Charming Smile," she teased, "but you …"

He silenced her with a long kiss.

As they separated, he smiled down into her face.

"Miss Granger, would you care to dance?"

Hermione smiled, coyly. "Thank you, Professor Snape. I would love to."

- - -

With the exception of the year that Hermione had used the time-turner to attend extra classes, the next four weeks were the busiest of all her time at Hogwarts. Determined not to let Severus down, she worked hard at her revision, until she was more prepared for her Potions N.E.W.T. than most of the seventh-year students. Between that and her other subjects, even Snape thought she was working too hard.

During the weeks leading to the exams, Ron and Harry did not come to dinner again, but the relationship between them and Snape was much easier. There was a worrying incident about a week after the dinner, when Harry became angry at Snape's continual criticism of him in their Potions classes, but this blew over relatively quickly. Snape could hardly be expected to change his behavior overnight, and he was still their teacher, after all. Also, as Hermione felt compelled to point out, his treatment of them was no worse than that of her, during lessons, where he still bullied her, albeit with a glint in his eye.

Ginny's chat with Hagrid had had some effect, though not as much as she had hoped for. When he and Hermione had bumped into each other a few days later, he had smiled, hesitantly, and grunted a "Hello, Hermione", but when she had tried to stop to chat, he had made an excuse of having to get to class. To Snape, however, his behavior remained unchanged. Well, Hermione shrugged, it was a start.

It was only in the last lesson before the exams that the rest of the class found out about Hermione's early N.E.W.T. No one was particularly surprised, although Malfoy made certain remarks about the know-it-all Mudblood.

Neville's reaction, however, caused Hermione, Ron and Harry to laugh out loud, earning each of them a glare from the teacher.

"I'd have dropped Potions years ago, if it wasn't a core subject," he whispered. "Do you think Snape would let me take my N.E.W.T. a year early, just to get me out of his class quicker?"

Hermione had a strange feeling that Severus might that idea as appealing as did Neville, and as he snarled at their laughter, she determined to suggest it to him.

Before they knew it, the exams had arrived, and their days were spent sitting silently in the Great Hall, or frantically getting in some last- minute cramming.

Potions was the last of Hermione's exams, and Ron and Harry, having finished all of theirs during the morning, were waiting impatiently for her as she left the exam room with the seventh-years.

"How did it go?" Ron asked, as she hurried towards them.

Hermione groaned. "It was terrible," she told them, close to tears. "There were two questions that I couldn't answer at all, and I'm sure I got one wrong about antidotes."

"Ms. Granger," Snape's voice rumbled from across the corridor. "I trust that my time in preparing you for this exam was not wasted."

A seventh-year student gave Hermione a brief smile of encouragement as she passed, clearly thinking that the Potions Master was giving her a difficult time.

"I think I got some questions wrong, Professor," she said, miserably. "I could only remember two of the names for dried Apple root, and I forgot the name of the antidote to Dakkanaran."

The Potions Master's expression was irritated. "As I recall, the question relating to dried Apple root only asked for two alternative names," he told her, impatiently, "and the name of the antidote to Dakkanaran was not required, as long as you explained how it should be administered." He regarded her, haughtily. "I trust that you were able to explain a simple process like that?"

Hermione nodded, relief beginning to show on her face.

"Then you should have nothing to worry about," he concluded, firmly, "and there is absolutely no excuse for this ridiculous display of self-doubt!"

He spun on his heel, and strode across the corridor to catch up with two seventh-year Slytherins. The three friends could hear him quizzing them on their responses to several of the questions, as they headed towards the dungeons.

"Well," Harry said, merrily, "it sounds like he was pleased!"

"Never seen him so happy!" Ron agreed.

Hermione laughed. Only Severus could speak like that and give the impression that he was delighted! He would not be marking the exam, so it was now out of both of their hands, but he had clearly known that the questions had been within her capability. Trusting his judgment, and setting aside her doubt, she allowed herself to relax a little.

The exams were finally over.

"A whole week!" said Ron, happily. "No exams. No lessons. No revision. No projects! And then it's the summer! No more work for weeks."

Hermione was appalled. "But we have our N.E.W.T.s next year!" she exclaimed. "You can't possibly be serious about not doing any work until September!"

She received a solemn gaze from Harry. "Hermione," he said, seriously. "I don't know if anyone's ever mentioned this to you before, but … You're Crazy!"

Knowing that there would be little point in trying to reason with either of them, she sighed. "Okay, okay! I give in. I won't hassle you about working."

"Look," said Ron. "Even lover-boy just practically told you to 'chill out'!"

She couldn't help laughing at that. A few weeks ago, she would have thought he was being horrible, but now she accepted his good humor.

As they headed back towards the Gryffindor common-room, they bumped into Parvati and Ginny, who were heading to meet them. Ginny had also only just finished her last exam – Divination – and was determined to make the most of the free time, having spent the last hour in the confines of the hot and misty tower classroom.

"Do things get any easier, when you get into the sixth-year?" she asked, not sounding hopeful.

Her brother put an arm around her shoulder. "Afraid, not, Sis," he said, pitilessly. "It just keeps getting worse and worse."

She punched him, and moved over to Harry.

As the five friends changed direction, and walked towards the school grounds, Hermione smiled to herself. Harry gave Ginny a tender smile as he put his arm around her shoulders, while Ron reached out to take Parvati's hand in his. In other circumstances, Hermione might have felt left out of the scene, not being able to display this kind of affection with Severus in public, but the thought of the holidays pushed all thoughts of jealousy aside.

Despite her parents' objections, there was no question about moving in with Severus over the summer. She loved him. She belonged with him. She had written to tell them that she would return home a couple of weeks after the end of term, but that she would be staying with him over the summer.

As yet, she had received no reply, but whatever they said, no other solution would seem right at all. This would be the real start of their lives together.

A short week left at school and then they would be together. It would be perfect.

Could she last that long, she wondered? The last week of term would be her last chance to spend time with Ron and Harry for a while, and she enjoyed that thought very much. She sighed, happily, at the prospect of such a lovely conflict – whether time would go quickly because of enjoying her time with her friends, or slowly, in anticipation of Haven.

Well, whatever the outcome, it would be a peaceful week, she reflected. Time to take Ron's advice and relax. Just a short week.

She couldn't be more wrong. The last few days of school would be far from peaceful and relaxing.

As she followed her friends through the main doors to the school, and out into the warm evening, she had no idea of what an eventful week was ahead of her, and it would start the very next morning.


	49. Another Change of Plan

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 49 – Another Change of Plan**

Saturday morning found Hermione going into the Great Hall for breakfast with only Harry and Ginny. Ron had decided to make good use of the free time, by planning a romantic day with Parvati. They had eaten an early breakfast, and set off into the grounds with lunches provided, to Hermione's silent disapproval, by the house-elves.

"There's a spot by the lake, where it's lovely and quiet, and the view across the water is beautiful," said Ginny, dreamily.

This raised a smile from Hermione, who wondered if that was where she and Severus had accidentally witnessed Ginny and Harry's first kiss. From the look on Harry's face, she had to assume that it was a reasonable guess.

As they took their seats at the Gryffindor table, they were soon joined by Neville and Seamus, with Colin and Dennis Creevey.

"Hiya," said Dennis, cheerfully. "Heard the news?" Malcolm Baddock's in the hospital wing."

Hermione froze on hearing the name. Anything to do with that particular Slytherin gave her a bad feeling. "What happened?" she asked, trying to sound only casually interested.

"Don't know all of it," said Seamus, helping himself to boiled eggs, "but I heard he tried to hex his brother, and it backfired."

Neville leaned closer over the table, and lowered his voice a little. "Natalie McDonald had to go to the hospital wing this morning, to have that rhyming charm reversed, and she said he was covered with huge boils. Even on his ears!"

"That would be funny to see," laughed Harry. "Alistair's okay, for a Slytherin," at this he winked at Hermione, remembering the rose, "but I've heard his brother's about as devious as Malfoy."

A voice came from behind him, and he turned to see Malfoy approaching, tailed, naturally, by Crabbe and Goyle. "Someone mention my name, Potter?" he sneered. "You want to watch what you're saying about Slytherins. You never know who might be listening."

"Get lost, Malfoy," said Hermione, with a grimace. "We were talking about you, not to you."

Malfoy turned to her, with a contemptuous gaze. "Maybe I'm not the only one who's being talked about, Mudblood!" With that, he turned and stalked away, his henchmen following in silence.

Hermione turned her back on him, and forced a laugh, but her mind was racing. What could he have meant by that? Were things being said about herself and Severus?

No.

She forced herself to think rationally. This was Malfoy. He was probably just winding her up. She hoped.

She joined back in the conversation, to avoid seeming too concerned, but she could not help worrying. As they finished eating, however, something took her mind away from the more devious members of the Slytherin house.

Owl post arrived, and a large Hogwarts owl deposited a heavy package before, Hermione, accepted the toast it was offered, then flew off.

"That looks interesting, Hermione," said Ginny, who had received no mail, but was making a fuss of an excited Pigwidgeon, who had flown in with the other owls, for some attention.

The wrapping fell apart to reveal a book. It was thick, and bound in blue leather, bearing the title "Milestones in Magic", by Grendel Moldbury Arkletan.

Excitedly, she opened the cover, and read the words from the first page aloud:

"Milestones in Magic

"A history of the events and discoveries that provide the foundations for today's magic

"By Grendel Moldbury Arkletan

"(Order of Merlin, First Class)

"With

"Miss Hermione Granger"

She flipped excitedly through the pages, stopping in the middle of the book.

"Look at this!" she exclaimed, happily. "My project. It's here!"

The others crowded around her, looking over her shoulder at the pages.

"This is great, Hermione," said Neville. "It's got your name at the start of the chapter."

"And a foreword by the other bloke, saying how good it is!"

"You're published."

"Brilliant!"

Through the bodies of her friends crowding around her, Hermione caught a glimpse of Snape and Dumbledore talking together at the top table. Both glanced in her direction – the former's expression composed, but the latter's cheery.

Finally – Hermione, the bookworm, had her name in print. True, it was only one chapter so far, but it was a start. And it felt wonderful.

- - -

"First of all, Miss Granger, I would like to congratulate you on your incredible achievement. You are an asset to the school."

Hermione beamed at Dumbledore's words. He had called her to his office the day after she had received her copy of the book, and was now sitting across from her, behind his large desk.

He indicated the bookcase at the side of the office. "I also received a copy, as did Madam Pince. The shelves of our library bend under the weight of the works of many former Hogwarts students, but none before have graced our collection while the author has still been a pupil. I confess that have never seen our History of Magic Professor looking so close to being not dead."

"It's wonderful to have something I wrote actually published, Professor," Hermione replied, proudly.

Dumbledore smiled. "Then perhaps you will have no objection to another opportunity to see your name in print, in an article for The Daily Prophet?"

Hermione was more than a little skeptical. Her experience with reporters had not been good. "Really?" she asked, warily.

"I realize that articles in the past have caused you a certain amount of – shall we say 'embarrassment' – but I think you will find Ms. Skeeter's attitude to be vastly improved, since your previous dealings with her."

The mere mention of the name was enough to cause Hermione a surge of irritation. That woman!

Dumbledore continued. "For the past two years, her pen seems to have been decidedly less poisonous. Coincidentally, Miss Granger," he regarded her over the rim of his spectacles, "the sudden transformation occurred shortly after her run-in with a certain young witch."

The student turned a look of innocent puzzlement on the teacher. "Really, Professor?"

The twinkle in his eyes gave Hermione the impression, not for the first time, that the headmaster could read minds, but his words gave no indication. "She will be arriving on Friday, so I made arrangements, unless you object, for her to interview you during the afternoon, and then attend the end-of-year feast."

Resigned, Hermione nodded her consent. After all, she had handled the venomous witch the last time – she could do it again. "Very well, Professor. I'd be happy to meet with her." She was about to push herself up out of the comfortable chair, but held back, wanting to say something and not quite sure how. "Sir," she ventured. "I wanted to thank you. For your confidence in me over my project … and for everything else."

The headmaster said nothing, allowing her to continue.

"I know how uncomfortable you have been over my relationship with Professor Snape, and I appreciate the fact that you have been so … understanding."

"I very nearly fired him."

A lump formed in Hermione's throat. "I know. I'm sorry that we put you in such a difficult position."

Dumbledore sighed. "Hermione, when I first learned the truth, I assumed that it would be over within a few months. I was wrong. I have my concerns about this, but I am happy, at least, to see Severus in love."

"I love him very much. It's like we're … soul mates."

As Hermione watched the headmaster's face, she was sure that she could detect a hint of sadness there, but a second later it was gone, and he smiled.

If it had not been for the fact that her thoughts were occupied with the thought of a meeting with Rita Skeeta, she might have been more worried about the fleeting expression on the teacher's face, but by the time she reached Severus' rooms that evening, she had put it from her mind.

- - -

Marking exams was not one of Snape's favorite pastimes, and he needed a break. If all his students were like Hermione – or even Gem and Bale – it would not be so bad, but having to see just how many students had failed to grasp the simple concepts that he had drilled into them was depressing. He was a good teacher, he knew, and all the staff felt the same way when it came to exams, but he just wished that he could find some way to get their heads to hold more of what they had learned, instead of allowing all to drain like water through sand.

As the end of term drew close, he had certain routines that he always carried out to ensure that he left everything as it should be over the summer. Not that it usually mattered – over the past few years he had spent almost all his holiday time at the school – but this year, he had no plans to be anywhere but Haven. His office and classroom needed a clear out, and his precious stores needed to be re-stocked with anything that would keep, and ingredients that would not keep had to be removed.

Allowing himself a break from the students' scrolls, he stepped out to the grounds. There were only two items that he needed right now – both from the greenhouses.

It was a beautiful day, and he turned his face to the sky, drinking in the fresh air and scent of the grass. The night's light rain had left the grounds smelling of damp earth, and the bottom of his robes caught up the drops from the wet grass. Usually, his taste was more for the crispness of autumn, or the somber days of winter, but today he found the damp, clean morning air refreshing.

He gathered what he needed, and was heading back towards the castle, when he glanced over towards Hagrid's hut. The huge teacher was sitting outside in the sun, looking over his garden in satisfaction. Determinedly, Snape changed course, towards the hut.

"Good morning, Hagrid," he called, in the friendliest manner he was able.

Hagrid, unfortunately, lost all appearance of his former contentedness at the approach of the other teacher. "I 'ave nothin' to say ter yeh, Snape!"

He stood, and made as if to go inside his hut, but the smaller man stepped quickly in front of him.

"Hagrid – this is ridiculous. We cannot go on acting this way."

The step that the half-giant took towards Snape brought them to within two feet of each other, and many people in that position – straining to look up into the hairy face – would have been intimidated, but Snape stood his ground as Hagrid spoke. "I've made my peace wi' Hermione – well kind o' – I know now that none o' this is 'er fault. But you – Professor Dumbledore should never 'ave trusted yer. Get out o' me way!"

Snape continued to stand firm. "I have no intention of going anywhere until we have settled this," he growled.

"Then y'll be standin' there a long time, 'cos there's nothin' ter settle!" Hagrid's face was red behind his beard. "All them years I stood up for yer. I trusted yer 'cos Professor Dumbledore trusted yer – and yer let 'im down. Well, he might forgive anythin' but I won't. Not when it comes to a kid like Hermione."

It seemed hopeless, but the younger teacher was forced to continue. He had to find some way to make this stubborn fool accept them. "Hermione and I love each other. How can you say that is wrong?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw a group of students coming out of the castle and across the grounds. They were heading for the lake, but it would not do for the two teachers to be seen arguing like this. He stepped back to allow Hagrid into the hut, and followed him inside.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Hagrid turned. "I can say it's wrong 'cos she's a student an' yer a teacher!" he roared. "Yer far too old for her, and she's goin' ter end up gettin' hurt!"

"I have no intention of hurting her!" Snape snarled. "Whatever you may …"

"Yer sleepin' with a student! How can yer even try ter defend yerself?"

The Potions Master was growing tired of this. If he had not wanted so badly to make things right for Hermione, he would have given up on this long ago. It was clear that the issue would never be resolved. They would all just have to learn to live with that. "I love Hermione!" he stated, giving this one last try. "The only thing that is going to hurt her is if you continue to act this way."

At this, Hagrid's anger grew. "Ger out!" he shouted. "Hermione deserves better than you. Ye've got no sense of decency!"

Finally convinced that his efforts were futile, Snape turned to leave. As he stepped out into the brightness, the door was slammed behind him, and he strode, enraged, towards the school.

- - -

Snape was heading towards the dungeon past the library on Wednesday afternoon, as Ginny Weasley stepped out of it, followed closely by Madam Pince. The librarian nodded curtly to the Potions Master, and Ginny gave him a faint smile.

"Miss Weasley," he rumbled. "I would like to talk to you about your Potions exam."

Ginny stopped walking and turned to the teacher. "Yes, Professor?"

Madam Pince continued on her way, and Snape watched her go. "I finished marking your paper this morning, and I was very pleased with the result. Your work has much improved this year, and you deserve credit for your hard work."

"Thank you, Professor."

Snape paused, feeling awkward. He was not accustomed to complimenting students in this manner, and he was sure that the girl knew it. He also suspected that she knew he had another reason for wanting to talk to her. Just get on with it, he told himself, sternly.

"I … also wanted to ask you about … Hagrid. I know that you have spoken with him before, and I wondered if …"

Ginny looked up at him, sadly. " … if he was still upset about your argument yesterday?" She ignored Snape's slightly surprised look. "He's calmed down a bit. He still says you're too old for Hermione, and you have … erm … 'no sense of decency or honor', but I think maybe he's accepting the fact that you're not going to hurt her."

With a sigh, Snape nodded. "I intend to make her happy! I assume that your brother told you that she has accepted my proposal?"

The expression on her face, however, showed that this was news to her – and welcome news, at that. She broke into an overjoyed smile. "Congratulations, Sir. When's the big day?"

"That has not been decided," Snape explained, wondering how he had managed to slip so easily into a friendly conversation with the girl. It was unlike him to volunteer information like this, but it seemed natural. "We will probably wait until she has left school next year."

It was pleasant to see the expression of genuine brightness on Ginny's face. So much of his relationship with Hermione had been clouded by disapproval and anger, and to see someone truly happy for them was refreshing.

"From the way the two of you seem to feel about each other, I'm surprised either of you can wait that long," she laughed.

For a moment, Snape gave Ginny a faint smile, but then something made him pause. She was absolutely right. Why would they wait? There was no reason other than other people's reactions, and even if they married, it wouldn't necessarily mean they had to tell everyone. In a few days, Hermione would be moving to Haven with him, and they would be together. Why shouldn't she go there as his wife?

Oh, God!

He stared at the girl in front of him, who returned the gaze in puzzlement at his sudden change.

"Are you okay, Sir?"

He ignored her question. "Miss Weasley," he said softly, "you are truly a wonder!"

With a gentle movement, he reached out to take her hand, and raised it lightly to his lips. Then he spun on his heel and hurried away down the corridor, leaving the mystified Gryffindor staring after him.

- - -

Crookshanks watched Hermione's face intently as she talked.

"I know that it will be different from going home – well, back to my parents' place anyway – but you'll like Haven," she was explaining. "It'll be strange starting to think of it as Home, at first, but I think we'll get used to it very fast. You'll have lots more room to roam about outside, and no having to be cooped up in a cage on the train."

The cat stood and stretched, on the bed, then moved to rub his head against his mistress' hand. She was organizing her things, getting ready to leave on Sunday – the day after the rest of the students – but with the amount that she had been talking to the cat, she had actually got very little done.

Hermione smiled down at the animal, stroking between its ears, which produced a contented purring. A movement at the fireplace caught her eye, and Severus stepped out. He had not been in her room very often, as they had thought it best for the Head of Slytherin to stay out of the Gryffindor Tower, and he seemed somehow – too large for the room. It was not his physical size, but his – presence. A dark tower of black robes, he stepped over to her, and took her in his arms.

The cat jumped off the bed in a huff, as Hermione's attention was taken by the intruder. They kissed deeply before he finally released her, and pulled back to look into her face.

"Hermione," he said softly, not taking his eyes from hers. "Marry me!"

She laughed. "Of course, Severus. Didn't I already agree to that?"

But his face was serious. "No, my darling – I don't mean that. I mean now! I want you to marry me tonight!"


	50. Ceremonies

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 50 – Ceremonies**

The moment Snape spoke the words, Hermione knew her answer, but it took several heartbeats to find her voice.

She smiled up at him, and slowly nodded. "Tonight," she confirmed.

Immediately, she was lifted from the ground in his arms. His lips took possession of hers, and their tongues met in a long and blissful caress. It was only when Crookshanks jealously began to mew that they broke from their silent embrace.

"Tonight," repeated Hermione, softly, still slightly dazed at the thought. "Is it possible to do this so quickly?"

Snape assured her that it could be done, and she was happy to leave the planning to him. She had never attended a wedding between a witch and wizard before, and the school library was, needless to say, rather short of books on the subject.

"Weddings in my family are traditionally large and formal, but that seems inappropriate." He suggested a small, informal ceremony in the Hogwarts grounds, and she readily agreed.

Sitting side by side on Hermione's bed, it was quickly decided not to invite her parents, nor even to tell them of the wedding. It would not be recognized in the Muggle world and, in fact, Hermione had a great deal of difficulty in explaining the Muggle concept of a legal marriage to her lover.

"Hermione, a marriage is a commitment between two people," he said, puzzled. "How can there be laws about whether or not that commitment is true?"

Her attempts to explain about marriage licenses proved fruitless, especially when she found that it would be impossible to obtain one, even it they tried – as far as the Muggle world was concerned, Severus Snape, with no birth certificate or formal identification of any kind, did not exist. Without a marriage certificate (and probably a church and a white dress, thought Hermione) her parents would not even accept that there had been a wedding.

The news that Snape had three sisters to invite to the wedding came as something of a surprise to Hermione. When she had asked him about his family in the past, he had told her that his parents had been dead for many years, but he had never mentioned sisters.

"We are not 'close', " he explained, when questioned. "We rarely speak, but the bonds that unite us go deeper than mere communication."

The thought of him having sisters seemed strange to Hermione. "I can't imagine what they would be like."

He kissed her. "You will find out this evening," he promised, "but for now, we must both prepare. I must request my sisters' presence, and speak to Dumbledore, and you, my darling, need to invite your friends."

Hermione wrapped her arms lovingly about her husband-to-be. "I can't believe this is happening," she whispered, joyfully. "It feels so perfect!"

They arranged to meet for dinner, in Snape's rooms. The wedding itself would not take place until midnight, but he informed her that there were certain traditions that must be observed before the event.

As he stepped into the fire, Hermione felt a strange tingling in her stomach, as though it would hurt to be parted from him for even a few hours. She stood in the silence of her room for several minutes, staring at nothing, and absently stroking her cat.

The smile on her face broke into a happy laugh, and she shook herself, attempting to snap herself out of her reverie. Today was turning out quite differently from the way she had expected!

- - -

By the time Hermione stepped into Snape's room for dinner, he could tell she was a nervous wreck. He pulled her protectively into his arms.

"It is fortunate that I had time for some potion-brewing this afternoon, my darling," he said softly, kissing the top of her head. "I had a feeling that you might need this." From the desk at the side of the room, he picked up a glass of a black liquid, almost of the consistency of treacle. A light tap of his wand on the edge of the glass caused it instantly to begin steaming. The knots in Hermione's stomach tightened at the thought of drinking anything, but Snape's commanding gaze made her accept it and she forced herself to gulp it down. Immediately, she felt her stomach settle and her nerves calm.

As they ate, they exchanged stories of how others had taken the news. Harry, Ron and Ginny had been surprised at the suddenness, but had quickly accepted it. The Weasleys had attended several weddings of this type, but Harry was as new to this as Hermione. Even in the Muggle world, he had only seen weddings on television – never in real life.

Snape, in the meantime, had spoken to Dumbledore, who had been, as throughout their relationship, concerned but resigned. Those few staff who had by now come around to their relationship had been invited, and Snape's sisters had been summoned.

"Is there enough time for an owl to reach them?" Hermione asked.

Snape shook his head. "I did not send owls," he explained. "The Summoning spell I used is the way we four have always chosen to call each other."

"Tell me about them," she asked.

Snape felt a slight pang of guilt at having told her nothing about them, and wondered – not for the first time – if he had done the right thing, but there was no time now. He could sense their approach, and was thankful that they had not simply burst from the fireplace – but then that was not Seda's style.

He stood, and cleared the table with a quick wave of his wand. "There is no need," he said softly, in answer to Hermione's request. "They are here."

With an appearance of being calmer than he felt, he raised his wand to open the door. On summoning them, he had not known whether they would arrive alone or with their husbands, and he had mixed emotions to see two wizards with his sisters.

The three witches stepped forward into the room, and regarded him solemnly. As always, seeing Seda's face made him feel that he was looking into his own soul. They were so alike, and yet he sometimes felt that he barely knew anything about her. They nodded to each other, gravely, and he turned to his younger sisters. They reached out to him, and he took their hands, forming a small ring of three. The touch lasted for only a few seconds, but in that gentle squeeze of hands passed the understanding that seemed to matter little that this was their first contact in several years.

He acknowledged the two wizards behind his sisters with a nod, which they returned, then he braced himself for the introductions, but before he could begin, Seda spoke.

"Why have you summoned us here, Severus?"

- - -

Hermione waited nervously as five strangers entered the room.

The family resemblance between the four siblings was strong, and the sisters shared Snape's silky black hair, dark eyes, and solemn expression. The elder – standing taller even than the three wizards – seemed to share her brother's severe manner. It was only the knowledge that Snape's own outward appearance was somewhat deceiving that prevented Hermione from backing away from the formidable looking witch.

The other sisters were clearly twins, and their manner was very different from their sister and brother. They were beautiful, but there was a terrible sadness about them. She could not understand why, but they put Hermione in mind of trees in November.

She watched as her lover greeted his family in silence. There did not seem to be hostility between them, exactly, but it was hardly a warm greeting, and when the tall witch spoke, the harsh tone filled Hermione with dread.

Snape's voice was calm as he replied.

"I have summoned you because I intend to marry tonight, and would like my family to be present," he said, simply. "I would like to introduce my bride, Hermione Granger."

Hermione was not quite sure how to respond to this introduction. Following the strange greetings between the siblings, it seemed inappropriate to offer to shake hands, nor did any other approach seem fitting. In the end, she simply smiled, and Snape continued.

"Hermione, these are my sisters – Seda," he gestured to the one who had spoken, "Selene and Sefarin."

The twins nodded their heads slightly, but Seda regarded her without reaction.

Snape continued. "This is Seda's husband, Holt, and Sefarin's husband, Corvus."

Holt was a tall and handsome man with fair – almost golden – hair. He turned a warm smile and bright eyes towards Hermione, and she found herself instantly comfortable in his presence. The thing that surprised her about him, though, was his age. Seda appeared, in both looks and behavior, to be a little older than Severus, but Holt could hardly be more than a year or two older than Hermione, and his smile seemed completely at odds with the severity of his wife.

Inwardly, she laughed at her own prejudices. How could she, of all people, find such an age gap strange?

Corvus was the opposite of Holt, in that his hair and skin were dark, and his expression was every bit as solemn as his wife's. Whatever sadness she carried, he shared with her. He was not handsome in the same way as the other wizard, but his calmness gave him a gentle appearance.

Her attention was drawn back to the others when Seda stepped quickly towards her, and placed a hand under her chin, forcing her head back, to look up into her face.

"She is Muggle-born, Severus."

Snape stepped forward, and Hermione's chin was released.

"Indeed."

As soon as Seda had entered the room, Hermione had had a feeling that she would not approve of her brother marrying a Mudblood, and she realized now how right she had been. It seemed that the thought of polluting the Snape blood with that of a Muggle was a personal insult to her, and Hermione found herself to be the subject of a heated exchange between brother and sister.

Not everything that was said made sense to Hermione, but Seda seemed to be insisting on a ritual that Severus vehemently opposed.

"That has not been carried out in this family for over a century, Seda," he snapped. "What gives you the right to cast judgment over my choice of wife?"

Seda's response was just as cold. "I have every right, brother, in order to protect the bloodline of the family. The ritual has not been necessary in the past century, because no-one else would threaten the family in this way."

Finally, wondering what she was letting herself in for, Hermione stepped forward. "Severus, if there is some ceremony that is needed before the wedding, I don't mind."

Seda turned to her brother in satisfaction, and her tone made it clear that her plans would not be altered. "It is decided. We will proceed in one hour in the grounds of the school. Assist her to prepare, Severus. I will prepare the site."

She turned and strode from the room, leaving the others standing in silence.

- - -

Several times over the next two hours, Hermione came close to regretting her decision.

Snape was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but knew that there was no point in attempting to dissuade either witch. He quickly explained to Hermione what she had just agreed to – a test of her magical abilities beyond anything that her school exams had prepared her for. The Snape family was old, and was 'pureblood'. A Muggle-born could only be allowed into the family if their magic was worthy.

"I should not have summoned them," Snape told her, pacing her room. "I knew Seda felt strongly about family blood, but I had no idea she would go this far. Your magical ability is exceptional, and I thought she would be able to see that."

It took a while to calm him, but finally, dressed in the deep crimson robes she had chosen that afternoon, for her wedding, she headed for the grounds, hand-in-hand with the man she loved.

As they walked, he explained a little about his family. The wedding between Sefarin and Corvus had been a double wedding, with Selene and her husband, Lyall. On the death of Lyall, less than a year after their marriage, the remaining three had gone into a deep mourning, which had never lifted.

"Their sadness seems worse, perhaps, because they were so happy as children," sighed Snape. "As for Holt – do not be fooled by appearances. In years, he is closer to Dumbledore's age than to yours!"

Hermione was amazed, but had no time to ask any more about this. With an invisibility spell cast around them both, they reached the quiet spot by the lake in the growing darkness. Seda had cast a circle a few meters in diameter, outlined by a faint glow on the ground, which would prevent those not involved in the ceremony from seeing anything. At the edge of the circle, Hermione stepped forward, but Snape found himself unable to enter.

"You have no business here, brother," said the witch, standing in the center, and looking more intimidating than ever.

Reluctantly, the wizard kissed Hermione and turned back towards the school, leaving her to face her trial alone.

Looking back on this experience later, it did not seem too bad, but at the time, it was torment. Never had Hermione's skills and strength been tested so completely. It was like taking all of her exams at once, but pushed into a short space of time, with no chance to think about one spell before she was presented with another challenge. Seda was a powerful witch and Hermione had to stay alert to be able to meet every test that was presented to her. It was magically, physically and mentally draining, and she could feel her strength slipping away from her.

- - -

"Hermione, my darling," Snape's voice was concerned. "Wake up."

As she opened her eyes, her lover's face came into view, lit faintly in the darkness, by the light of a single white candle at the center of the circle. She sat up quickly, and could just make out the figure of Seda striding back towards the castle.

"What happened?" she asked, weakly.

She felt hands helping her to her feet, and realized that Dumbledore was with them. "I believe that you surprised her with your abilities," he said softly. "But you fainted."

Snape was fighting to control his anger. "She drove you to it," he snarled. "The testing is never intended to be so powerful."

Slowly, Hermione's limbs stopped trembling as she took the chocolate offered by the headmaster, and cleared her head.

"It's alright, Severus," she said, soothingly. "It wasn't as bad as everything my parents put you through!"

In amazement, he turned to her, and laughed. "Hermione Granger, you are truly amazing," he said, shaking his head. "Few people can manage to joke after their first meeting with my sister!"

Feeling exhausted, Hermione slipped into Snape's embrace. They stood, holding each other in silence, and she felt her lover's strength flowing into her as she began to recover from the ordeal she had been through. As they hugged, Dumbledore, apparently not in the least discomfited by their closeness, walked slowly around the circle cast by Seda.

He returned to the center of the circle, and addressed Hermione.

"Miss Granger," he smiled, kindly, "I have been asked by Severus, to lead the ceremony this evening. I have no authority or special powers in this role – I will simply be a guide. The marriage ceremony belongs to you both. As part of my duty, however, I have to be certain that both of you are fully aware of the commitment you will be making to each other, and that your feelings are true."

Looking up into Snape's eyes, Hermione smiled. When it came to their love for one another, and their commitment to each other, there could be no doubt. This felt more true than anything she had ever done before.

- - -

As midnight approached, so did the guests.

Professors McGonagall and Vector were the first to arrive.

"Severus. Hermione," smiled McGonagall. "This news came as quite a surprise to me, today."

Hermione laughed softly. "Me too!" she told them.

With a wave of his wand, Professor Dumbledore drew from the air in front of him, a black candle. Solemnly, he presented this to the deputy headmistress, who calmly took it in both hands and held it up to the central candle to light it. With that, she walked silently to the edge of the faint circle and stood, facing inward. Another black candle was created, and Professor Vector followed suit, standing a little way from McGonagall, looking inwards, but with an expression on her face that told Hermione she was seeing nothing. There was a calmness in her looks that seemed to show a want of all conscious thought – lost in private contemplation.

A few moments later, Harry and Ron arrived. They stepped towards the center of the circle and greeted Hermione, then the two teachers. If Ron and Harry's use of the Potions Master's first name caught Dumbledore by surprise, he did not show it, other than a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, which Hermione thought just might be amusement.

"I presume that Miss Weasley will be joining us?" the headmaster asked.

Ron told them that Ginny had left them after dinner, promising to be there by midnight, but had not said where she was going.

Dumbledore nodded, then calmly created candles for each of them. Harry watched Ron take his candle, light it, and go to the side of the circle, then copied his actions. It seemed a little odd to Hermione that the guests would space themselves out, instead of standing together. Ron had gone to stand next to the Transfigurations teacher, but there was a gap between McGonagall and Professor Vector, and Harry stood alone across the other side. It was as though something had drawn each of them to their places, although how those places had been determined was beyond her understanding.

In twos and threes, the guests continued to arrive. Although they were outside, and a long way from the school, it seemed natural to speak quietly. The mood was happy, but there was a solemnity to it that Hermione found wonderfully peaceful.

Corvus, Sefarin and Selene approached in silence, smiled faintly at Hermione (although they barely acknowledged the two wizards), then lit their candles and took their places. Professor Flitwick arrived at a trot, in order to keep up with the striding Madam Hooch. Professor Trelawney, setting a more dignified pace, was still a long way behind them.

When Severus' younger sisters and brother-in-law had arrived, Hermione had noted that those already in place in the slowly-forming circle barely seemed to see them, but the approaching teachers gazed curiously at the strangers. They said nothing, however, and addressed the three in the center.

"This must be the first wedding at the school for many years," the little Charms teacher commented.

Dumbledore, who seemed to have more information about the history of Hogwarts than any book Hermione had even read, provided the details. "I believe that the last wedding to take place in the grounds was in 1724," he said, "although it was between two members of staff," he added pointedly.

Madam Hooch's short laugh rang out rather loudly in the quiet night. "First getting published – now this!" she said. "Leave it to Miss Granger to achieve two school 'firsts' in one week!"

By the time the Divination teacher had arrived, the others were in their places, with candles lit. Trelawney stopped and gazed sadly at the bride and groom. She said nothing, but finally gave an emotional sigh, and took a delicate lace handkerchief out of her flowing robes to dab at her eyes. As though the emotions were too much to bear, she looked away from the couple, to take her candle from Dumbledore.

As midnight drew closer, there were now only three guests absent. Seda and Holt arrived, bowing their heads formally to Dumbledore. The wizard gave Hermione and Snape a warm smile, but Seda merely nodded. To Hermione, however, this was a sign of true acceptance. After the events of the evening, she knew full well that if she had decided that Hermione was not suitable for her brother, neither she nor her husband and sisters would have been present.

As they took their places – Seda next to Harry, and Holt beside Trelawney – Hermione realized that only Ginny was still absent, but there were two spaces left in the circle. Perhaps one of them was for Dumbledore.

But, no – through the gap between Professor Vector and Holt, she could see the small figure of Ginny approaching them, followed by a large shadow. A moment later, the young Gryffindor hurried into the circle, followed by the huge figure of Hagrid. He stared at her for a second, then in the candlelight, she could see his eyes fill with tears, matching her own.

"Hermione, yer look ... beautiful," he sniffed.

Overjoyed at the sight of the unexpected guest, Hermione rushed forward to hug him. He gave her a squeeze, then released her and took a step towards the Potions Master.

"I am glad you are here, Hagrid," Snape said softly.

Hagrid nodded, then reached out his hand, which Snape shook. The huge man looked as though he were trying to say something, but finally gave up. He took a large handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose loudly, before turning towards the smiling Dumbledore and meekly receiving his candle.

The final places around the circle were now filled, and midnight was almost upon them. The two lovers faced each other, holding both hands as they gazed tenderly into each other's eyes, and waited.

A peace settled over the circle. Outside, the warm night breeze caught at the leaves of the trees and the surface of the water, stirring up a soft rustling and rippling, but they seemed far away, like hearing the sea inside a shell on a beach. Inside the circle was all that was real.

It could have been minutes or merely seconds that passed in the silence – Hermione could not tell – but finally, Dumbledore spoke, his voice quiet but clear, addressing everyone present.

"Friends, we are here tonight at the request of Hermione and Severus, to witness their exchange of vows, and to celebrate their union. This union is a commitment between two people who share love, respect and honor, and who wish to share their lives together.

"Each has a life of their own. They are individuals with their own joys and sorrows; their own accomplishments and disappointments; their own strengths and fears. And yet, although each has their own past, they have chosen to share their future together. Joining does not simply mean that two people will walk together through life – they will become one unit, not bonded together through necessity or obligation, but joined by love, and of their own free wills. Together, they become a new life."

As Dumbledore spoke, he now turned away from Hermione and Snape, and began to pace around the inside of the circle.

"This marriage affects not only these two, but all of us. Every person here tonight shares in this unity, because every person here cares for them both as individuals, and as a joined life. By joining their lives, they join their families. Without our blessing, they will stand together, and will combine their hearts into one. But with our blessing, we will give them our strength, and help their union stand firm."

He stopped in front of Harry, and fixed him with a firm gaze. "As a representative of Hermione's friends and family, will you accept Severus as her husband, and welcome him as one of your own?"

Harry's gaze moved from Dumbledore to the formidable wizard standing in the center of the circle. Only a few months ago, the thought of accepting him like this would have been inconceivable, but now he was completely sincere in his response. "Yes, we will."

On Harry's right, the oldest of the three sisters stood tall and impassive – the same aloof expression that appeared on her brother's face so often.

Dumbledore addressed her. "As a representative of Severus' friends and family, will you accept Hermione as his wife, and welcome her as one of your own?"

Hermione felt the piercing gaze of Seda, and tried not to wither under her stare.

"Yes, we will."

Hermione breathed again.

Dumbledore returned to the center and faced Hermione and Snape once again.

"Severus, is it your wish to take Hermione to be your wife and soul mate; to love, trust and respect her, and to join your heart and spirit with hers for as long as you both live?"

Snape's voice was low and gravelly, and his eyes did not leave Hermione's. "It is."

"Hermione," continued Dumbledore, "is it your wish to take Severus to be your husband; to love, trust and respect him, and to join your heart and spirit with his for as long as you both live?"

"It is."

From his robes, he withdrew a small silver box, which he placed on the palm of his hand and tapped with his wand. The box disappeared, leaving two plain gold rings. As Hermione and Snape each took a ring and placed it on the finger of the other, Dumbledore spoke softly.

"These rings are a symbol of your marriage. A ring is an unbroken circle – a sign of unity and love, like the circle of friends in which we stand. They have neither beginning nor end, but are a continuous cycle of which your union forms a part.

"Hermione and Severus, on behalf of the friends a family who love you, both here and far away, and on behalf of the wizarding world to which we all belong, I recognize and honor you as husband and wife. May you know joy and love, and may you accept life's rewards and bear its burdens together for all your lives."

For several seconds, Hermione and Snape remained still, with hands joined. Then they closed the distance between them and the young wife was drawn into her husband's arms.

- - -

Once the marriage was recognized, the candles were left around the edge of the circle, but the guests stepped forward and talked throughout the night. As he had done with the candles, Dumbledore produced glasses from the air, which filled themselves at a tap from each guest's wand. They talked and laughed, and congratulated the couple, telling Hermione how beautiful she looked and Snape how surprised they were at his uncharacteristically spontaneous gesture.

"Who could blame me for wanting to marry my beautiful witch so quickly?" he asked, in a low rumble, and all agreed.

Holt was lively and happy, laughing with Harry and Ron, who took an instant liking to the ageless wizard. Sefarin, Selene and Corvus quietly endured Professor Trelawney's company, until rescued by Dumbledore. The three were the first to leave, but took the opportunity to talk quietly with the newly-weds before departing.

"You will know much happiness, Sister," Selene said softly. "Treasure every moment."

"I will," replied Hermione, wishing that she had time to get to know these gentle souls.

As though hearing her thoughts, Corvus gave her a rare half-smile. "We will be with you."

At that, they turned and called their broomsticks to them from the darkness, and, without another word, they disappeared into the night.

The similarity of character between Snape and Seda was clear from her manner throughout the night. She stood apart from the others for most of the time, the only person she appeared to be comfortable around being Dumbledore. She seemed to consider the other teachers and students beneath her notice, although her distain for Trelawney, in particular, was obvious.

After much talking, and saying their goodnights, Ron, Harry and Ginny began walking back to the castle, followed soon after by the staff, with the exception of Dumbledore and Hagrid. Hagrid insisted on pulling Snape aside for a moment before leaving. Hermione could not hear what was said, but Hagrid's cheery 'goodnight' and her husband's satisfied expression were good signs.

There was little more than an hour of darkness left before dawn, and Seda and Holt bade them farewell. In a gesture warmer than Hermione would have expected, the tall witch placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. Neither of them spoke, but words, it seemed, were not required. To Hermione, Seda merely nodded, but Holt hurried forward to take her hands in his and kiss her cheek.

As their broomsticks faded into the darkness, Hermione, Snape and Dumbledore were left alone in the circle of candles.

"Well, Mrs. Snape," Dumbledore smiled, "this has been quite a night."

- - -

The first glint of the sun peeked above the distant horizon and touched the top of the hill – the highest point in the Hogwarts grounds.

From their vantage point high above the castle, Hermione and Severus Snape had the perfect view of the glorious sight, but barely noticed the wonder of nature that was happening around them. The light breeze touched their naked bodies, and they sighed in happiness as they lay side by side.

Snape trailed his fingers lightly over his wife's body – her smooth skin and firm breasts were so beautiful in the morning light. He traced a line over her hips, down to the soft curls of her hair, and smiled in satisfaction at her soft intake of breath.

"You do such wonderful things to me, Severus," she whispered, happily.

"That is because I love you so much, my darling … and we still have plenty of time before breakfast."


	51. Endings and Beginnings

**Warning**

**This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 51 – Endings and Beginnings**

The first day of Severus' married life was more wonderful than any other he could remember.

From the top of the hill where they had spent several perfect hours together, they walked hand in hand back towards the castle. Making themselves invisible long before approaching the school, they stopped to kiss as they crossed the site by the lake where the ceremony had taken place. After they had left it, shortly after the last of their guests, Dumbledore had broken the spell over the area, and there was no evidence that anything had taken place there, but to them it was the perfect place of happiness.

It was almost time for breakfast as they entered the school, but they returned to the dungeon for Hermione to change.

"You look beautiful, my darling," he told her softly as they entered his room, "but you can hardly wear your wedding robes to breakfast." Lifting her hand, he touched her wedding ring. "Unfortunately, we must also do something about these."

The thought of not being able to tell the world that he was married to the enchanting witch was cruel, but he knew he had no option. The longer their relationship stayed secret, the better. The reaction of the likes of Poppy Pomfrey showed just how strongly feelings ran about the teacher student relationship. He also had many enemies, who would be glad of a chance to influence the Hogwarts governors and have him thrown from the school – or worse.

No – however much he wanted the world to know of his love for Hermione, secrecy had to be maintained for as long as possible. With a regretful sigh, he tapped his wand on each of their rings, concealing them from view.

"I will see you at breakfast, Mrs. Snape" he whispered.

With a kiss, Hermione stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.

- - -

With lessons ended, and on a beautiful day like this, the grounds of the school were relatively crowded later that morning. After a near miss, where a group of third-year students had caught them by surprise, and almost walked into them, the newlyweds headed further away from the school, where the paths were seldom trodden. In a shaded and secluded area, well away from both students and staff, they sat together for most of the day, enjoying each other's company and breathing in the rich air of the summer day.

They talked of everything – school, plans for the future, friends, family – it was perfect.

"Hermione?"

They were laying on his cloak, with her head resting lightly on his chest, and he gently stroked her hair. She murmured in response.

"What do you think would have happened if you had not regained your memory?" It was something he had wondered about, but had never found the right time to ask. "Do you think we would ever have reached where we are now?"

Hermione sat up and gazed down at him, pondering this thought. "I fell in love with you the first time, Severus. It could have happened again, but …" she paused and stroked his cheek with her fingers, " … I could see the depth of your passion, and how much your past has affected you. Without remembering that, I'm not sure that I could have grown to love you so deeply."

He was not quite sure how to respond to this, and felt very unsure of himself. "Are you saying that you could not have fallen in love if I had not …" Maybe he should never have asked.

Hermione stepped in quickly. "No. But I am saying that if I had only seen the gentle, romantic side of you, that it wouldn't be as … real. I couldn't have fallen in love with only half of you, without knowing the rest."

"Then I am glad that your memory returned, my darling." A lump was forming at the back of his throat as he thought about this. "Because I could never have shown you that side of me by choice. The first time, I completely lost control of myself – I promised myself then that I could never hurt you again. I would rather have just let you go than ever … "

Gentle lips cut off his words as Hermione leaned close to kiss him.

"Shhh, Severus," she whispered. "We've been through this before. The past is a part of us, but it doesn't need to rule our lives. We accept it and we go on."

Snape began to speak again, but she cut him off.

"I love you. That's all that matters, whatever happened – or might have happened – in the past."

The words made perfect sense and he knew it. He had to let go of these feelings. The fact that she loved him was all that mattered in the world. Giving in to her words, he drew her down to him and kissed her, and for a long while they lay in silence.

When Hermione spoke, she changed the subject completely.

"I'm not looking forward to my interview with Rita Skeeter tomorrow," she said, mildly. "I'm not exactly one of her biggest fans."

Snape had wondered about this, when she had mentioned Dumbledore's request. He had met the woman himself several times, and disliked her intensely. The stories she had written about Hermione two years ago had been unpleasant, but he had a feeling that there was more to it than that.

"I remember what she wrote." With a pang of guilt, he also remembered some of the things he had said to Hermione that year.

His puzzlement over what had happened was short-lived, however, as Hermione chose to tell him the full story. The idea of Skeeter being an Animagus surprised him – he would not have thought she had the ability – but what he found more amusing was the way that Hermione had dealt with her.

"So," he drawled. "My beloved little witch is not above a little blackmail, herself, when it suits her!"

Hermione laughed. "Don't start comparing me to your Slytherins, Professor Snape," she retorted. "Keeping Rita Skeeter's vicious quill away from parchment for a while did the wizarding world a favor! I wasn't doing it for my own benefit."

"There was no hint of revenge in your motives, then?"

The response to this was a snort. "The only person I wanted revenge on at the time was a certain teacher who made my life Hell! You reduced me to tears so many times, that year. I hated you!"

She was teasing him, but the truth of this statement hurt, and he knew it to be justified. His behavior towards her during her fourth year had been vindictive and entirely deliberate. He hadn't known why he had wanted to hurt her so much, but he had never missed an opportunity. Still – dwelling on it was pointless.

"I apologize for my behavior, my darling," he said, sincerely, but then changed his tone to one of mock evil. "However, it is a little late now to decide that I am such a terrible person. You are, in fact, stuck with me for the rest of your life!"

With a swift movement, he rolled Hermione over onto her back, and pinned her down with his weight. She giggled.

"Don't worry – I forgave you for that a long time ago!" she laughed. "If you hadn't made that horrible comment about my teeth, I might never have had them fixed! I suppose I have Malfoy to thank for it, as well."

"I will be sure to tell him that!"

He closed his mouth on hers, and he kissed her deeply. "If anyone had told me then that you would one day be my wife I would have thought them out of their mind. Now, I cannot imagine ever being without you!"

Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon to evening, but the passage of time went unnoticed by the lovers. They talked and kissed, laughed and made love, in bliss – unaware of their surroundings, and unseen by the world around them.

A perfect day.

- - -

There was a great deal of excitement in the corridors as Snape made his way to the staffroom on Friday morning. He had left Hermione early, to post the Slytherin exam results outside the House entrance, and students from all houses were now exchanging grades. Most looked happy or relieved, although there was the usual quota of disappointed expressions.

"Poor results, Harris?" he sneered at a particularly miserable looking second year from Ravenclaw. "Perhaps you should have spent more time concentrating on your studies, and less on your futile efforts to tame the giant squid!"

The only exam results not displayed were those for the N.E.W.T.s. The distribution of these were the responsibility of the Heads of Houses, and McGonagall was waiting at the staffroom for the heads of Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff with a stack of envelopes for each of them.

"These are for your seventh years, Severus," she told him. "Although Miss Gr … Hermione … is in my house, she took only one N.E.W.T. this year, and I thought it might be appropriate for the Potions Master to give her the result."

Snape nodded, pleased that she had thought of this. With the envelopes came a scroll marked with his name, and he quickly scanned down the list of marks it contained, to find his wife's name. She was still listed under the name Granger, and he grunted in satisfaction at the grade 'O' for 'Outstanding'next to his subject. It was no surprise, but gratifying to see it on parchment. She deserved this.

As the students gradually filled the Great Hall, he moved up and down the Slytherin table, handing out the small envelopes to each of the seventh years. Congratulating some and berating others, he watched the doorway for his wife, finally seeing her enter with her friends. With a feigned air of resentment, he stepped over to the Gryffindor table and stood behind her, dropping the envelope disdainfully over her shoulder onto her empty plate.

"Granger," he growled, stressing the inaccurate name. "This is an adequate result."

He watched as Hermione tore open the envelope and stared at the result inside.

"I trust that your other subjects did not suffer as a consequence." It sounded like a weak excuse for asking her what her other results were, but he wanted to hear it. Not that he had any doubt, of course.

She turned to look up at him with a controlled and polite smile. "No, Professor Snape. I got an 'O' in every subject."

With careful practice, he made sure that his eyes showed no hint of being impressed by this. "Then be sure that this does not make you complacent about the rest of your N.E.W.T.s next year."

Looking down at her, he almost wished he had given her the result in private. He wanted to congratulate her – to take her in his arms and tell her how amazingly gifted she was as a student, and how proud of her he was – and her eyes said how much she wanted that too. The way that her right hand was casually rubbing her invisible wedding ring gave every appearance of being an unconscious action, but he knew it to be deliberate.

Before he could do anything foolish, he turned quickly away from her without another word, and strode off to hand out the rest of the N.E.W.T. results to his House.

Malfoy was ready with a sneer as Snape passed.

"So how did the Mudblood do, Sir?"

Snape stopped, making his irritation appear to be directed at the Gryffindor, rather than the Slytherin before him. "Surprisingly well, Mr. Malfoy, despite her unfortunate heritage."

The young wizard was not impressed by her intelligence. On the contrary, he seemed to see this as a failing.

"Well, her brains won't help her in the real world, will they, Sir? We all know that it's family and power that counts!"

The Potions Master regarded his young charge with an amused sneer.

"Indeed."

He had to admit that Malfoy had a point about the importance of family, but then, Hermione was a Snape now, if only by marriage. Malfoy was sadly deluded if he thought that his heritage and money would get him what he wanted out of life. True, they would go a long way, but put his beloved 'Mudblood' next to a Malfoy and there could be no comparison.

- - -

At the end of term, there was much for the staff – and particularly the Heads of Houses – to do. After breakfast, the Potions Master headed for the staffroom, while Hermione, Ron and Harry walked slowly towards Hagrid's hut, to be greeted by an excited Fang.

"Not long now 'till yer all off 'ome for the summer," Hagrid boomed as he greeted them. "Gonna be quiet round 'ere without yer."

It was a pleasant morning. They sat outside on the grass and Hagrid brought out tea and some of his home made rock buns. Fang dashed from one student to the other, licking Hermione's face, almost knocking Harry over with his huge, wagging tail, and finally settling on the ground with his head on Ron's lap, drooling on his robes.

Hermione felt relaxed and peaceful. Throughout her time at Hogwarts, Ron and Harry had been her true friends. There had been difficult times, when they had argued, and months, even, when they had not spoken, but everything had always been resolved. Things had changed over the years, of course, and they seemed to spend less and less time together, particularly now that Hermione was with Severus, Ron had Parvati, and Harry, Ginny. Spending a morning like this with Hagrid, who even now was still more a friend than a teacher, was a warm reminder of things that were important to all of them.

In the afternoon, the three friends offered to help Hagrid with a few things he had to do. During the summer, he had plans to acquire some new creatures, and needed to prepare. Together, they helped him create a large enclosure behind his hut for the hedgehog-like Knarls, filling it with plenty of potted plants and pretty garden ornaments to smash.

When Hermione left them at four o'clock they were about to make a start on building a hive for Glumbumbles. She would much rather have stayed with them, but Rita Skeeter would be waiting.

An interview with a reporter for the Daily Prophet was something about which many of the Hogwarts students – and many in the wizarding world at large – would be extremely pleased. For Hermione, however, it promised to be an unpleasant experience that would simply have to be endured.

Since the day that she had released the beetle from its jar, and watched it turn back into the angry form of Rita Skeeter, she had not seen the witch. She had, on occasion, though, checked on her writing, to be sure that her work lived up to their bargain. Other than her closest friends, Hermione had told no one of the witch's status as an unregistered Animagus, and she was happy to see the nervous expression on the reporter's face as they met.

Rita was sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, and stood as Hermione entered. Hermione had almost forgotten the extravagant appearance – the painted nails, and painted face, and those awful glasses. Clutching her crocodile skin bag to her, the witch extended a hand and the two women exchanged the limpest of handshakes.

"Hermione," the reporter said, hesitantly, "I know that you are only here because it was a request of Dumbledore, and I am only doing this because it was an order from my editor, so I suggest that we get this over with as quickly as possible."

Hermione could not agree more. "Very well, Rita. Let's just get on with it, and keep them both happy."

Quickly, Rita sat, and pulled a long ornate pink quill, which matched her robes, and several sheets of parchment from her bag, placing them on the table. Eyeing the quill suspiciously, Hermione sat down opposite her.

"You're still using a Quicknotes quill?" she asked, with a frown.

Rita was quick on the defense. "No, no, no. It is a Truenotes quill," she told her. "it works the same way, but it has less of an … artistic license!"

Hermione nodded. "You mean it doesn't just make up whatever will look good in print!"

The reporter looked away, obviously seething, and making a great effort to control her acid tongue. "It assists me in making sure that all my quotes are accurate, word for word." She took a deep breath, and forced a smile.

"So, Hermione," she said, making no secret of her hurry for this to be over. "How does it feel to be the only student at Hogwarts ever to be published while still attending school?"

Even when speaking about her project, Hermione found it difficult to muster up much enthusiasm when talking to the reporter that had caused her so much trouble. The questions were simple, and what she had expected. What made her choose those subjects for her project? What did she think of the rest of Arkletan's book? Was she planning to contribute to more books in the near future?

She tried to sound as excited as possible, but knew that the effort was wasted. Skeeter looked bored, as though not really interested in this – presumably still sulking about being forced to carry out the interview in the first place.

After a few general, bland questions about the book, the conversation turned to her Potions N.E.W.T. How difficult had it been to prepare for it, a year in advance? How did she respond to the suggestion that her high grade was awarded in order to prevent accusations of prejudice against muggle-borns? Had the formidable Slytherin Potions Master been against her taking the exam early?

Hermione knew perfectly well that there had been no such accusations of prejudice – it was simply Rita Skeeter hoping for a reaction. She refused to rise to the bait, and handled this question, and the one about Severus, calmly.

"I believe that the mark I got was entirely justified, Rita. I worked hard for this. As for Professor Snape, he knew that I was capable of taking the exam early, and approved my entry along with Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster."

The questions turned, inevitably, to Harry. Somehow, no doubt from one of her Slytherin spies, she had found out that he was going out with Ginny.

"How serious is the relationship between Harry and his best friend's sister?" she asked with a smile.

Just after she had asked this, however, the witch glanced down at the Truenotes quill, moving furiously across the parchment, and a strange look came over her face. She seemed to lose her train of thought, and broke off mid sentence, glancing sharply at Hermione, then back at the parchment. Hermione looked down, but the paper was upside down, and was quickly snatched away before she could make out the words.

All of a sudden, the reporter was in a hurry.

"Well, Hermione, maybe I should ask Harry about that himself. I wouldn't want you to think I was digging for gossip."

Rita stood, rapidly pushing her things into her bag. There was a look of eagerness on her face that Hermione did not like at all.

"I think that I have taken up enough of your time, she said, giving her darting glances, but not quite meeting her eyes. "I must go and write up my story, and I will see you at the feast tonight."

At that, she hurried from the Great Hall, leaving Hermione both puzzled and worried.

- - -

"So, how did it go?"

The Gryffindor common room was busy as Hermione, Ginny and Parvati came down from Hermione's room. Being in the fifth year, Ginny still slept in a shared dormitory, but this evening, all three had piled into Hermione's room to get ready for the end of year feast.

"It went okay," Hermione replied to Ron as they met the two boys at the bottom of the stairs, "but there was something strange at the end – like she'd suddenly remembered she'd left a cauldron over the fire and had to rush off. It might have something to do with Harry and Ginny, though – she'd just asked about them."

Harry groaned. "Oh, great! I wonder what she'll write this time."

"Maybe we should give her some other gossip to write about," suggested Parvati. "Erm … Dennis Creevey breaking the school record for the number of times anyone has ever fallen in the lake?"

They all laughed. Stepping through the portrait hole, they made their way, with the rest of the House, towards the Great Hall.

"How about Ivan Kimmins from Hufflepuff getting hexed by Laura Madley when he broke her crystal ball?" Ginny tried. "I heard it was horrible. Should definitely be worth some gossip!"

Ron nodded. "Or we could tell her about Malcolm Baddock's hex backfiring the other day," he suggested. "He got out of the hospital wing this morning, by the way."

Hermione's interest was caught by this unwelcome news. She listened intently as she heard that he had been seen, looking very sulky, being dragged off to the Slytherin dungeon by his brother.

"Apparently Malfoy had something to do with it," Harry said, as though this did not surprise him at all. "Neville says that Malcolm was trying to tell Malfoy something, but Alistair saw him and tried to keep him quiet. That's when they started fighting, and Malfoy's been trying ever since to find out more."

Hermione froze at Harry's words. They had now almost reached the Great Hall, and she could see Snape towering above the students as he approached the entrance with Madam Hooch.

"You go ahead," she said to her friends. "I need to ask Professor Snape something about my N.E.W.T. I'll catch up with you."

The two couples shrugged, and continued on their way, while Hermione hurried towards her husband. "Professor Snape," she called, and watched as Madam Hooch tactfully entered the Hall alone.

Snape turned to her, and stepped to the side of the hallway. "What is it, Granger?" he snarled, feigning irritation at being stopped by the Gryffindor.

Keeping her voice low and her expression calm, she told him what she had just heard. His face remained impassive as he dropped his voice to a murmur.

"I saw the Baddocks together, earlier. I believe that Alistair has his brother on a tight leash, and it is unlikely that anything can be said over dinner." He paused to consider for a moment, then nodded, decidedly. "I will deal with this after the feast," he said quietly, then turned and strode into the Great Hall.

- - -

Most of the other teachers were already at the staff table as Snape approached. Dumbledore's place in the center was still empty, flanked by McGonagall and the school's guest for the evening. With a sinking heart, he realized that the only empty seat was on the reporter's other side. Of all the people at the top table, he had been cursed with a place between Rita Skeeter and Sybil Trelawney. He sat, ignoring the two witches, and glanced at the Slytherin table. He would have to do something about Malcolm Baddock, but for now he was relieved to note that Alistair had kept him well clear of Malfoy.

"Well, Severus," Rita Skeeter said, in a sickly voice, next to him. "You're looking particularly handsome this evening. You even look happy. Quite unlike your usual foul self – I can't imagine what the reason for this could be."

Unable to ignore her for long, Snape glanced quickly at her. There was a twinkle in her eyes that gave him a very unnerving feeling.

Before he could reply, however, Dumbledore approached, and the reporter's attention was turned to the headmaster.

The Hall fell silent, and the old wizard beamed happily about him. He began to speak.

"At the start of each year, I have the enviable pleasure of welcoming a new group of young students, bright eyed and eager to learn, into the school. I watch their progress over the seven years that they are in my charge, and eventually, I have the honor to watch a fine group of young witches and wizards go out into the world."

As Dumbledore spoke, Snape watched the seventh years at the Slytherin table with well-concealed satisfaction. There were some among their number of whom he would be glad to be rid, but others – he had to confess – in whom he took considerable pride. Teaching had its challenges, but the rewards of guiding the progress of a young mind were quite something.

Dumbledore continued. "Hogwarts has been in existence for over one thousand years, and has seen many changes during that time. This year, perhaps more than most, the winds of change have blown freely through the school. Times, indeed, have changed, and we must adapt and learn as we are carried along.

"The students in the school today include some of the finest I have ever known. Some are now leaving us, and others will be with us in the coming years.

"To those of you who are ready to enter the world as adults, I say 'Adieu, and good luck', and to those who will return next year – 'try not to forget everything you have learned so far!'

Next came the part of the evening that had angered Snape for several years – the awarding of the House Cup. This year, however, the sting was not quite so sharp. The only thing that could annoy him more, at this time of year, than not winning the cup, was having to watch Gryffindor take it – something he was, thankfully, spared for the first time in several years.

Strangely, and unexpectedly, he felt a certain satisfaction as he looked up at the gold and black decorations, and heard Dumbledore's proud announcement of "Hufflepuff". Slytherin and Gryffindor were close behind, with Ravenclaw bringing up the rear, but this was the most closely tied battle for the cup in many years. It even amused him to think of the part that he had played in the Hufflepuff victory – after all, if it had not been for the considerable number of housepoints he himself had awarded to Gem and Bale, for their assistance in the potion needed to aid Hermione's recovery, the outcome would have been quite different.

He listened as Dumbledore continued. "All that remains is for me to say – Let the feast begin!"

The plates in front of them were suddenly piled high with food. At Snape's side, Rita Skeeter reached for her glass and turned to the headmaster.

"Still an old windbag, I see, Dumbledore," she said, in a treacly voice.

Dumbledore smiled. "And I see that you are as charming as ever, my dear Rita."

It seemed, however, that Rita Skeeter was more interested in speaking to the Potions Master than to the Headmaster, and it gave Snape a very uneasy feeling.

"I have already owled my story about your young … student … to my editor, you know, Severus," she told him. "It was so fascinating that I could not help but want to send it as quickly as possible."

Snape said nothing, determined not to give her a reaction.

"It will be in Monday's edition," she continued, unfazed. "I do hope you'll read it!"

Across the Great Hall, Snape saw his wife glance up at him, then look quickly away, back to her friends.

He turned to look at the reporter, whose eyes twinkled with smug satisfaction.

"How did you know?" he asked, softly.

- - -

Snape and Hermione sat together that night, comfortable in their wide armchair, snuggled close. Snape's arms were wrapped possessively around Hermione as she leaned back against him.

"It seems that forcing Rita Skeeter to be more truthful had its drawbacks," he said softly. "The Truenotes quill she uses simply wrote down your name. Hermione Snape."

Hermione rested her head back against her husband's shoulder, and sighed. She should have suspected something like this, from Rita's reaction. It sounded like the same type of magic that caused the Marauder's Map to show the true names of the people in the school – even when under the effects of Polyjuice Potion.

"Hermione Snape," she repeated. "That name sounds so right!"

Tenderly, he bent his head to kiss the top of her hair. "We belong together," he whispered, contentedly.

"And by Monday, everyone will know it!" Hermione said, resignedly. "Well, by the time it is published, we will be safely in Haven."

Snape squeezed her. "Then let us simply let it happen, and deal with the consequences when we return. You know, Hermione Snape – asking you to marry me right away was the best idea I have ever had."

He could not believe that he was so happy. He had the woman he loved in his arms, and now she bore his name. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her again. Her skin was so soft on his lips, and she smelled so good!

Standing, he drew her to her feet and smiled. What more could be possibly want than his wife in his arms?

Gently, he lifted her from the ground and carried her to his bed.

- - -

"It seems so strange to be saying goodbye to you here, instead of at King's Cross." Hermione had her arms around Harry, giving him a big hug. Ron was next, followed by Ginny.

Their trunks were loaded onto the train, and students all along the platform were climbing aboard the Hogwarts Express. Hagrid was blowing his nose loudly into a dirty handkerchief, and one or two other teachers were helping students with their trunks further down the train. At the far end of the platform, Hermione could see Snape giving some final words of advice to Alistair Baddock, who seemed to be at the end of his rope.

Ron gave her a grin. "Remember that we're all going to meet in Diagon Alley in a few weeks," he said, cheerfully. "Anyway, I don't think you're going to be thinking about us for a while!" He nodded towards the dark figure of the Potions Master, and Hermione grinned back.

There had been several questions about why Hermione was not going on the train, and the explanation had been put about that it was to do with Arkletan's book. She had not gone into details, and there were several curious looks, but generally, it had been accepted.

The door shut behind her friends, and they all crowded around the open window, waving happily at Hermione and Hagrid.

Further up the platform, Snape was deep in conversation with Alistair Baddock.

"Thank you for your advice, Sir," the young wizard was saying, but his expression was still worried.

Snape gave him a reassuring nod. "You will be fine, Mr. Baddock," he said. "You will be fine."

Baddock stepped onto the train as Malfoy passed Snape, followed by his henchmen. "See you next year, Sir," Malfoy said. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle loaded his trunk on to the train, followed by their own.

"Enjoy the summer, Mr. Malfoy."

As the student was about to board, he turned and nodded down the platform. "I hear Granger is sticking around for another day. Something to do with that book," he sneered. "Ridiculous, if you ask me. Anything for a bit of extra attention, that Mudblood!"

Snape's lips twisted into a smile as he held the door open for the Slytherin.

Suddenly, everything became completely clear to him. On Monday, Rita Skeeter's article in the Daily Prophet would announce the marriage of Severus Snape to Hermione Granger. The wizarding world would know then. What was the point of hiding it any longer?

He slammed the door behind the student, and leaned close, through its open window.

Very softly, but clearly, he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy," he said in a dangerously low voice, "that Mudblood is my wife."

The few teachers who had been there were already heading back towards the castle, and the station was empty apart from Hermione and Hagrid at the far end. With a feeling of complete exhilaration, Snape turned from Malfoy and strode deliberately down the long platform. Robes and hair flew out behind him, and his swift motion attracted the attention of the students on the train, so that by the time he had reached Hermione, many had their faces to the windows, wondering what was going on.

As the train began slowly to move, and Hagrid stepped away, Hermione looked up at the approaching form of Snape and gave him a startled smile. Swiftly, he strode the last few paces between them, and took her in his arms. Her lips responded willingly to his as he kissed her fiercely.

Gathering speed, the train beside them moved off – the faces of the amazed Hogwarts students staring out in shock.

Wrapped in each others arms, Severus and Hermione Snape were aware of nothing but their love. The train sped off into the distance, leaving them together on the deserted platform, locked in a loving embrace that neither of them ever wanted to end.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *


End file.
